Professor McGonagall hadn't expected Luke to articulate such an insightful conclusion.
After all, even she had only a vague sense of the concept so far and wasn't able to summarize it as effectively as Luke just had.
So...
"...You're absolutely right."
Then, she fell silent.
Professor McGonagall looked at Luke as though he were some kind of mythical creature.
At first, Luke didn't notice the professor's gaze, as he was fully engrossed in the notes on the sheet of paper she'd given him.
It was crammed with every idea and inspiration she could think of. Though the theories on the paper were incomplete—likely continued on other sheets—it was enough to capture Luke's full attention.
But as he examined the draft, his brow furrowed involuntarily.
"It's just an idea for now, Professor. You haven't reached a conclusion yet."
When he finally looked up and met Professor McGonagall's gaze, he noticed the strange way she was looking at him.
Startled, he realized that his behavior might have been too mature for an eleven-year-old. However, after the initial wave of tension, he chose not to overreact. There was no point in pretending forever, and this seemed like a good opportunity to gauge others' reactions.
"Is something wrong, Professor?"
Luke asked tentatively.
McGonagall shook her head with a complicated expression. "No, it's just... after all these years of researching Transfiguration, it's humbling to be inspired by a student."
"And this approach... it might not be limited to Transfiguration alone."
Her tone carried a bittersweet admiration, as though reflecting on how the younger generation always seems to surpass the old.
Her gaze softened, becoming warm and almost reverent, as if she were looking at a rare treasure.
Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the intensity of her stare. It made him feel like a prize pig being fattened up for a feast.
"Uh, Professor, as I said, this concept is far from complete. There's still a long way to go before it matches your vision."
He placed the paper back on the desk and slid it toward her, pointing to the abstract, cryptic phrases scattered across it.
"You can't expect everyone to understand descriptions like 'feeling as solid as ice' or 'flowing like water.' Even if they can grasp the idea, replicating it is another matter entirely."
These subjective sensations were undoubtedly clear to McGonagall, and Luke could interpret them to a large extent—but only because they were based on the classroom task she'd demonstrated.
However, the lack of standardization and the highly subjective nature of these descriptions didn't fundamentally differ from existing magical teaching methods.
McGonagall froze for a moment before realization dawned. Indeed, these casting sensations were unlikely to help a class of children.
Every practitioner of Transfiguration experienced unique sensations, and following her steps and descriptions to achieve the same magical effect would only work for a select few—those whose thought processes closely mirrored her own.
"You're right... it seems there's much room for improvement."
McGonagall frowned deeply, her mind momentarily at a loss for how to proceed.
Meanwhile, Luke exhaled in relief. It was clear that McGonagall's immense experience and knowledge had allowed her to immediately grasp the key issues with just a slight nudge from him.
"Do you have any other ideas?"
Professor McGonagall thought for a moment but couldn't come up with anything new. She then turned to Luke again.
Luke opened his mouth, then gave a bitter smile. "Professor… I'm still a child."
The look of expectation on McGonagall's face froze for a moment, followed by a hint of disappointment. But she quickly regained her composure.
With a soft sigh and a touch of helplessness, she said, "You're right, you are still a child. If you hadn't reminded me, I might've forgotten that."
Luke felt that her words weren't exactly comforting, though they didn't seem to carry any hidden meaning or probing intent either. It seemed to be just a genuine reflection.
"Of course, I'll keep thinking about it. If I come up with anything new, I'll let you know right away"
Luke added quickly.
McGonagall's expression didn't brighten but instead grew calm.
She gave a slight nod and said, "That's fine, but I suggest you refrain from experimenting with this theory for now. At least wait until I've completed several critical safety checks before putting it into practice."
Her tone was filled with concern.
Luke nodded with a smile and replied, "Don't worry, Professor. I'm not impulsive, and besides, I've already tried it before."
At that, McGonagall suddenly remembered—this child before her was the first to use this unrefined theory.
After a moment, she gave a reluctant nod but said nothing further.
Seeing the topic come to an end, Luke let out a quiet sigh of relief. Keeping his contributions at a surface level was best.
He hoped the professor wouldn't ask for more, as he was indeed approaching his limits. Any further discussion would force him to reveal personal conjectures tied to his own unique abilities.
"Professor, I received a letter"
Luke said, abruptly shifting the conversation.
McGonagall hadn't yet adjusted to the sudden change in topic when Luke's next statement made her stand up in shock.
"The letter said that someone plans to attack Hogwarts on Halloween night using dangerous magical creatures."
Luke's calm tone belied the gravity of his words.
Attack on Hogwarts? For at least eleven years, no one had dared to do such a thing. Even McGonagall's mindset had almost fallen back into the complacent belief that "Hogwarts can never be breached."
In truth, during Voldemort's reign, Hogwarts had once fallen under his control.
"Where's the letter?"
McGonagall asked sternly.
"It burned itself after I read it," Luke replied.
He had no intention of handing over the letter to the professor, unsure whether such an action would alert the sender. He couldn't predict how the sender would react—whether they'd continue or sever contact.
The former was manageable, but the latter could complicate things. While he didn't fully trust the information, it served as a valuable secondary reference.
Until he uncovered the sender's identity and intentions, Luke had no plans to freely disclose this information.
"Understood. Do you have any idea about who might've sent it?"
"No, I checked carefully. There were no clues. It was just a letter. The handwriting was beautiful, so the sender might be a woman"
So far, this was all the information Luke had managed to gather—full of uncertainties and gaps.
Professor McGonagall nodded and then cautioned, "Don't share this with anyone else... we don't want to cause unnecessary panic."
If Luke hadn't been aware of the professors' hidden plans, he might have believed this reasoning. But knowing about their schemes, he understood this explanation would only work on a naïve ten-year-old.
"Of course, Professor, I understand"
Luke replied in an exceptionally obedient tone.
His demeanor prompted McGonagall to give him a closer look. Luke widened his eyes in feigned innocence, his expression as pure and harmless as possible.
McGonagall took a deep breath.
"If you really intend to interfere in this, at least ensure your safety"
She said with a hint of resignation.
"I know you have a certain affinity for magical creatures, but you also need to be aware that creatures losing control is not uncommon. And if it's an attack, using just magical creatures won't suffice—the attackers will likely augment them with something like rage potions or similar enhancements."
Looking at Luke with a serious gaze, McGonagall added, "Be extremely cautious. If anything seems amiss, don't try to be a hero. Run. Head straight to the Headmaster's office."
Hearing this, Luke dropped his mischievous pretense and nodded sincerely, his expression filled with gratitude.
"Don't worry, Professor, I'll keep that in mind"
Looking at her student, who was equal parts endearing and exasperating, McGonagall shook her head slightly.
"Anything else? If not, go on and have your dinner. If I make any breakthroughs, I'll let you know."
"Got it, Professor. And if I come up with anything new, I'll let you know, too."
On his way to the dining hall, Luke couldn't help but reflect on the strange contradictions of this world.
Most people were thoroughly satisfied with the status quo and had no desire for change.
A small minority, dissatisfied with the current state, sought to make a difference but seemed like headless flies crashing against an invisible wall—facing bright prospects but finding no way forward.
Worse still, they couldn't even see the bright future that awaited beyond.
Almost all wizards, save for a few outliers, avoided meaningful interaction with Muggles. Even Muggle-born wizards, after seven years of Hogwarts' cloistered education, ended up adopting the traditional wizarding mindset.
Yet individuals like McGonagall proved that, given the right nudge, wizards could break through certain limitations and innovate.
But such breakthroughs were always surface-level and never ventured deeper.
"Hey, Luke!"
A sudden call snapped Luke out of his musings.
Marcus, seeing Luke finally return to reality, grinned and asked, "What's got you in such a good mood?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Luke, caught off guard, blinked in confusion.
"You were smiling just now," Marcus replied with a curious look. "I thought something good happened."
Feeling a twinge of disappointment, Marcus realized this might not be the best moment to broach his own agenda.
Luke touched his cheek. Had he really been smiling just now?
Then, he laughed for real.
Why wouldn't he smile? If this world weren't so backward and full of contradictions, accomplishing his task would truly have been a Herculean challenge.
"Of course, I did think of something that made me happy."
As soon as Luke said this, Marcus's eyes lit up.
"So, Marcus, is there something you need?"
Luke had already guessed Marcus's intentions, but he still needed to ask as a formality. After all, offering help unsolicited doesn't make for a good bargain.
Moments later, in the trophy room, Luke listened to Marcus enthusiastically explain his case.
For a moment, he didn't know what to say, though he maintained a polite smile on his face.
"All right, Marcus, everything you've said is actually something I already know. And as you can tell, I'm not particularly interested in playing Quidditch myself. Even if, as you say, I might have some talent in this area—considering every Gaunt has been a brilliant Quidditch player."
Luke smiled as he continued, "So let's cut to the chase. It's already dinnertime."
Marcus showed no signs of embarrassment. His expression was dead serious.
"Luke, we need help. Gryffindor is strong. I've had someone spy on their training—Harry Potter is an excellent Seeker. And he has a Nimbus 2000. Our equipment doesn't even come close."
At this point, Marcus sighed heavily, his face filled with frustration.
"If it were just a matter of skill, I'd accept it, even if they're bending the rules by using a first-year as a team player. After all, there's precedent for that, and I'd begrudgingly acknowledge it. But losing because of superior broomsticks? That's a failure I can't accept!"
Looking at Marcus's face, full of grievance, resentment, and anger, Luke's first thought was that they'd already lost, and Gryffindor had taken the trophy.
"So, Luke," There was a hint of pleading on Marcus' serious face, "please help us replace our Seeker's broomstick."
Before Luke could respond, Marcus quickly added, "I know it's inappropriate to ask you to pay for it. But Professor Snape isn't particularly interested in Quidditch. Sure, he might support us just to gloat to Professor McGonagall if we win, but asking him to fund new equipment? Impossible.
"As for me, I had the idea, but I can't afford it myself. My family wouldn't approve any funding for this either. And our Seeker? Just a regular kid from a modest wizarding family—they couldn't possibly afford a Nimbus 2000."
"That's why I'm turning to you, Luke. For the glory of Slytherin, please lend us your support! Slytherin's glory is the glory of the Gaunts!"
After finishing, Marcus gave a deep, ninety-degree bow. He appeared both earnest and humble.
But Luke wasn't one to be swayed by empty words and appeals to emotion.
Looking at Marcus, Luke couldn't help but chuckle. Despite his burly and straightforward demeanor, here he was trying to pull a fast one on him.
This might work on Malfoy, Luke thought. Malfoy would probably agree right away.
But Luke… Ha.
"No problem, Marcus. I could even pay to replace the entire team's brooms with Nimbus 2000s"
Luke said with a smile.
Marcus, realizing Luke hadn't helped him up, started to feel uneasy. When he looked up and saw Luke's smiling face, he shivered.
The warm smile was somehow chilling.
This is bad.
"But, Marcus," Luke continued, still smiling. "We're good friends, so of course, I'd help you. But you'll have to do me a favor in return!"
*****
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