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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 149
🕑 Added 2025-12-18 16:39:10 +0000 UTCChapter 149: I Promise
The Weasley twins were punished after they bewitched a few snowballs to chase Quirrell all over the grounds, only for them to smack into the back of his turban in the end.
Shawn was a bit stunned when he saw it.
It seemed Hogwarts’ “persecution” of Lord Voldemort was not limited to Penelope the prefect’s flames. It also included the Weasleys’ snowballs.
No wonder Voldemort insisted on attacking Hogwarts.
There were grudges involved.
As the Weasley brothers were hauled away by a rather angry Professor Sprout, Shawn headed back into the castle too. He had made every preparation he could. Now there was only practice.
Cold wind ran through the corridor, and the Transfiguration office fire burned low.
Professor McGonagall stood by the window, fingers holding a letter, as though she had glimpsed last winter again.
Firelight flickered across her square spectacles, and in the depths of her eyes lay a dimness she had never shown anyone.
She set the letter down, deliberately slowing her movements as if she were merely sorting papers. Outside the window, Hogwarts’ snowy landscape stretched on.
Until:
Knock, knock, knock.
Shawn tapped lightly on the Transfiguration office door.
“Come in, child,” Professor McGonagall said, returning to her seat behind the wooden desk.
Advanced Transfiguration was more dangerous and more complex, and it had to be practised under safe conditions.
Shawn remembered her words. He began his practice for the day.
His wand moved, and the beetle began to sprout feathers…
Clear, precise intent. Firm belief. Sufficient will.
Transfiguration always came back to those three rules. The beetle grew larger, but in less than two seconds, it snapped back into its original form.
Shawn breathed out hard, staring at the beetle, unable to understand what he had missed.
“Child,” Professor McGonagall said.
It was rare for her to see a student wear such genuine confusion. Only then did he look like an eleven-year-old again.
“Try thinking about this. Why a beetle?”
Her eyes narrowed, but then she seemed to remember something, and her expression sank back into a quiet stillness.
“Why… a beetle?” Shawn murmured.
Then his eyes brightened. He flipped quickly through the professor’s notes.
When practising advanced Transfiguration, there was always one method to strengthen belief: find the corresponding similarities.
Beneath that line were examples.
It was easier to transfigure a frog into a toad, or a canary into a cuckoo.
Both were “living to living” transfigurations, yet they were easier than others because the two forms shared something extremely similar.
Shawn thought, for no particular reason, of that student who had once transfigured a classmate into a badger. Surely he had not genuinely believed his classmate was a badger, had he?
So when Shawn raised his wand again, the beetle quickly became a feathered bird. It still had a few feelers and traces of shell along the surface, but it had stepped into Apprentice level.
[You practised advanced Transfiguration at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +30]
“You are unquestionably a genius, Mr Green,” Professor McGonagall said, amazed.
Then she watched as Shawn, full of enthusiasm, began practising again and again.
Just as he had said, once the panel showed progress, success was only a matter of time.
After practising for a while, Shawn reached Entry level.
And once he reached Proficient, he could start making “owl biscuits”.
Before he left the office, Professor McGonagall walked over slowly. She took his hand, her face softened by the warmth of the fire, and she said quietly, “This Christmas, you will receive a letter. I promise.”
Shawn could unravel the hidden knowledge behind countless branches of magic, yet faced with feelings like this, he did not know what to do.
…
Thanks to the thickening snow, Professor Sprout’s smile grew warmer too.
“By the second spring, the life buried under the snow will burst out even more fiercely,” she often said, hoe in hand.
Outside the castle, Shawn, Justin, and Neville trudged through the snow towards the greenhouses.
Not far away, Harry had just returned from training.
“I really do feel sorry for those people,” Draco Malfoy said, standing in the snow. “They have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because their families do not want them.”
He said it while looking straight at Harry.
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered beside him.
Harry did not react. He looked instead to Ron, who had come to meet him. Hagrid stood behind Ron, bundled in a heavy coat, and Ron was holding a steaming cup of honey-lemon tea from Justin.
Since the Quidditch match, Malfoy had become even gloomier than before.
Furious about Slytherin’s loss, he had tried to make everyone laugh by saying a wide-mouthed tree frog would replace Harry as Seeker in the next match.
He had expected howls of laughter, only to find nobody thought it was funny, because everyone was impressed Harry had managed to stay on his wildly bucking broom at all.
Malfoy, jealous and furious, could only turn to mocking Harry for not having a proper family.
“And you,” Malfoy added, cold and drawn-out, turning his aim to Ron, “could you move? You are in the way.”
“Trying to curry favour with Hagrid, are you, Weasley? I suppose you hope to be the gamekeeper when you leave Hogwarts, too.
“Hagrid’s hut must look like a palace compared to the place you call home.”
Ron lunged at Malfoy, and at that exact moment, Professor Snape appeared.
“Weasley!” Snape barked.
Ron released the front of Malfoy’s robes.
“He started it, Professor Snape,” Hagrid said. “Malfoy insulted both their families just now.”
Hagrid and Harry did not have much hope. They both knew Professor Snape was not fair.
Ron held back his anger. He knew what was coming: Snape’s bias. It was not the first time.
But to their surprise, Snape did not speak at once. He stared at them darkly, then looked towards the greenhouses, where a pair of bright green eyes flashed past and vanished.
“What did he say?” Snape asked.
A nameless fury tore through his chest.
“Er, I only said someone has no parents, and he is poor and ridiculous…” Malfoy said smugly, completely missing the way the figure in black robes rose and fell with restrained breath.
“Get out. All of you,” Snape roared first at Harry and Ron.
None of them had ever seen Professor Snape this angry. They fled at once, trembling.
“This is strange, Harry,” Ron whispered as they ran. “Did we just escape?”
