Chapter 137: The Erratic Transfiguration Talent and the Professor

Silven didn’t know that Harry and the others were already plotting to find the Chamber; his sudden departure had nothing to do with them, but with something else entirely.

When he returned to his dormitory, he just caught the last glimmer of sunset before darkness fell; without hesitation, he drew his wand and pointed it at his heart, whispering:

“Amaro, Animo, Animato, Animagus.”

This was the second step in learning the Animagus transformation: every day at sunrise and sunset, one must point the wand at the heart and recite the incantation.

Just now, Silven had noticed sunset was about to end, which was why he hurried back to his dormitory.

“Thump… thump…”

The familiar heartbeat sound returned to his ears, but this time, something else seemed to be added.

It was an extremely faint sound, like a single drop of rain falling from a leaf tip and splashing into a puddle beneath—masked by the downpour, nearly imperceptible, yet undeniably real.

Silven was certain he had heard it—the second sound—but when he focused entirely to identify it, it vanished, as if it had all been an illusion.

Then the spell’s effect ended, and normal sounds returned around him.

Silven was thrilled; he knew it hadn’t been an illusion. Though faint, he had truly heard a second heartbeat.

It was the heartbeat of his Animagus form—the key to the second stage.

Hearing the second heartbeat proved that the mandrake had established a correct “channel”; if no second heartbeat was heard, there was no point continuing the next steps.

But now the heartbeat was still weak; if he persisted in reciting the incantation at sunrise and sunset, it would grow clearer.

This discovery thrilled Silven—and left Harry, who had come specially, utterly baffled.

He had thought Silven was upset, which was why he had left the common room without looking back—but now…

Watching Silven occasionally chuckle to himself, Harry began to doubt himself… this didn’t look like someone who was upset.

“What’s wrong?” Silven asked, looking at Harry standing there like a fool. “What did you want?”

“N-nothing.” Harry instinctively shook his head, but then remembered what he’d said in the common room and blurted out: “Can you tell me where the Chamber is?”

“No,” Silven said. “I promised Professor Dumbledore I wouldn’t tell anyone its location.”

This…

Harry sighed. Just as Ron had said—Silven wouldn’t tell them even if he knew.

“Besides, it wouldn’t help even if I did,” Silven continued. “The headmaster has magically sealed the place. Even if you knew where it was, you couldn’t get in.”

“No, I just… I was just curious,” Harry stammered, then quickly left.

Silven didn’t care.

The next day, he couldn’t wait to tell Professor McGonagall what had happened the day before.

To his surprise, her reaction was even stronger—she shot up from her chair in an instant.

“What? You heard the second heartbeat?” She stared at Silven, disbelief etched across her face—as if someone had told her Snape was a witch and had just awarded Gryffindor two hundred points.

“Yes, I heard it,” Silven nodded.

Professor McGonagall studied Silven, searching his face for signs of deception.

But there were none—because it was true.

If the sound had been faint last night, this morning it was clear: two heartbeats, one large, one small, maintaining a strange, rhythmic pattern.

After hearing Silven’s description, Professor McGonagall found it even more unbelievable.

“How long has it been since you started reciting the incantation?” she asked.

“About a month and a half,” Silven thought and replied.

“A month and a half… and you’ve already sensed the second Animagus heartbeat?” Professor McGonagall sat back down.

That pace was nearly equal to hers—or more accurately, slightly faster than when she had learned the Animagus transformation.

She had taken twenty days; but Silven… if she remembered correctly, he had only completed the first stage’s preparations three days before the Easter holiday.

That meant he was three days faster than she had been.

But how was that possible…

Professor McGonagall had no contempt for Silven, but his Transfiguration talent was truly not exceptional.

If judged by grades, his Transfiguration talent should be rated E (Good)—just shy of the top O (Outstanding).

The gap wasn’t large—perhaps the difference of a single fill-in-the-blank question—but E and O were two entirely different things.

Take herself: Professor McGonagall remembered that during her school years, she had learned to turn a matchstick into a needle after seeing it once, mastered all content of the *Elementary Transfiguration Guide* in three months, finished the *Intermediate Transfiguration Guide* in first year, and began studying the *Advanced Transfiguration Guide* and human Transfiguration in second year.

Though Silven had repeated this process this year, he had devoted all his time to Transfiguration.

More than one professor had remarked that Silven constantly stole glances at Transfiguration books during their classes—Gryffindor had lost many points because of it.

“Come to my office tonight at sunset,” Professor McGonagall said. She still didn’t fully believe it.

“No problem,” Silven said.

So after dinner, he didn’t even return to his dormitory—he went straight to Professor McGonagall’s office and followed her to the school’s Astronomy Tower.

At sunset, Silven pointed his wand at his heart and recited the incantation again.

“Amaro, Animo, Animato, Animagus.”

“Thump… thump…”

“…thump…”

This time it was clearer: two heartbeats, one following the other, echoed in Silven’s ears.

Professor McGonagall couldn’t hear the sound, but as an Animagus herself, she could sense the peculiar magical fluctuations around them.

The unique magical fluctuations only an Animagus could produce—two entirely different yet perfectly synchronized rhythms.

When she transformed into a tabby cat, the fluctuations became even more distinct.

Silven had truly done it—he wasn’t joking!

How strange—why had Silven’s Transfiguration talent suddenly become the highest O when learning the Animagus transformation?

The thought flashed through Professor McGonagall’s mind, then instantly turned to relief.

The Ministry’s official record for the youngest Animagus was nineteen—but according to her own private information, it was fifteen… not everyone registered.

But none of that mattered now: Silven, only in second year, would surely break the record—unless there were no storms for three consecutive years.

But that was impossible; at some point, storms would come—even if they had to be made.

When the spell’s effect ended and Silven opened his eyes, Professor McGonagall had already transformed back.

“Come with me,” she said, leading Silven back to her office.

Professor McGonagall no longer cared why his Transfiguration talent fluctuated so wildly; sensing the second heartbeat meant he had succeeded halfway—now he must not slack off, must not relax.

“I’ll recommend some more books,” she said, pulling out a blank parchment and swiftly writing a list of titles, then signing her name beneath.

“These are all in the Restricted Section. You must keep them hidden at all times—don’t let anyone see them.”

Silven took the parchment and glanced at it: seven books, each title more terrifying than the last.

Below were the signature and borrowing date—here, Professor McGonagall had simply drawn a horizontal line, its meaning unclear.

“I’ve also collected some excellent papers on human Transfiguration—you should read them too,” Professor McGonagall said, walking into the adjacent sitting room.

Perhaps out of habit, she casually closed the door.

“Before the next storm arrives, you must learn and master as much Transfiguration as possible…”

When the door fully shut, Professor McGonagall’s voice vanished.

One had to admit—the professor’s office had excellent soundproofing, far better than the dormitory; sometimes at night he could still hear the snores from next door…

Silven thought this to himself—but the next second, something flashed through his mind.

Silven suddenly remembered: Harry had once said he heard Lockhart muttering to himself inside his room while writing replies for him.

But that didn’t make sense.

In Professor McGonagall’s office, her voice was completely blocked—so how had Harry heard Lockhart muttering inside his room?

…

(End of Chapter)