Chapter 24: Animagus

【Ash wood, wizard's hair, eleven and two-thirds inches】

【Status: Perfect】

【Trait: Transfiguration +10 (50)%】

【Disguise: Animagus transformation success rate +30%】

Silven stared at his creation, forged through a night of labor, his eyes gleaming.

Ollivander's Wand Shop held tens of thousands of wands, but Silven had seen only this one—only this single wand—that directly boosted Animagus success rate.

His grandfather could not make it; even his Ceng Zumu, using the mane of a Kelpie, had never crafted a wand related to Animagus transformation.

Silven didn't know if any had existed before, but among the three hundred seventy-seven wands stored in the shop, there certainly were none—he would have remembered.

After all, Animagus transformation, as the pinnacle of corporeal transfiguration, was famously renowned; if Silven had ever seen such a wand, he could not have forgotten it.

A direct +30% boost was unheard of.

This bonus was already substantial, since most new wands offered only a +5% to +10% positive enhancement.

Professor McGonagall, renowned for years, possessed the 【Transfiguration Master】 trait, which also granted only +30%.

Moreover, Animagus transformation was no ordinary transfiguration spell.

In Britain, there were roughly three thousand wizards; only seven were officially registered as Animagi by the Ministry of Magic, and even including unregistered ones, the total would never exceed twenty.

Directly enhancing a signature ability—is this the true value of a Transfiguration Master?

Silven grew fonder with each glance, flicked his wrist, and the quill on the table instantly transformed into a gleaming silver needle.

Silven frowned.

How to put it? There was a certain stiffness in its use—something he had never experienced before.

But perhaps this was simply the drawback of using wizard's hair as a core.

Silven turned his gaze to the other trait.

Transfiguration +10 (50)%

He had never seen such a thing before, but it was easy to understand.

For others—including himself as the maker—the base bonus was 10%; for Professor McGonagall, it became 50%.

In other words, this wand could only unleash its full potential in Professor McGonagall's hands.

……After all, it was her hair.

Silven hesitated briefly, then decided to keep the wand for a while—temporarily not giving it to McGonagall.

After all, traits tied to the Animagus spell were exceedingly rare; he didn't know if he'd ever see a second one.

Though he was only in his first year and his transfiguration knowledge was still incomplete—even with the bonus he couldn't yet learn Animagus—he could still learn it.

As a wandmaker who was poor at combat and utterly defenseless, a magic like Animagus, which could save his life, was vital—he ought to master it before Voldemort's resurrection.

Previously, Silven had had little confidence; after all, it was the pinnacle of corporeal transfiguration—but now, with this wand, the task became far simpler.

If he devoted more attention to transfiguration, he might truly master the spell before Voldemort's return—even this year…

Ah, too much dreaming. Too much.

Silven slapped his own face, forcing himself awake from his fantasy.

Animagus transformation wasn't something you could learn by just chanting a spell—the basic application of transfiguration was an indispensable prerequisite.

It was like wanting to win the Quidditch World Cup—you first had to know the rules and learn to ride a broom.

These weren't things a first-year could master.

Besides, Silven had other tasks to attend to—he couldn't devote all his focus to transfiguration.

As for Professor McGonagall… he still had one strand of hair left; he could simply make another wand if needed.

After all, she was already proficient in Animagus and didn't need a wand's aid.

Having made his decision, Silven stood, rubbed his forehead to clear his mind, then left the dormitory.

The common room was still lively.

Fred and George were, as always, promoting their prank products and their myriad varieties of Instant Escape Candy.

Wizards like Silven—exhausted, clearly sleep-deprived—were their prime targets.

"Try these—Tooth-Explosion Candy," Fred said, approaching with a box containing a dozen brown toffees.

"One-second effect—guaranteed to get you out of any boring class."

"Back to your dorm."

"Get a good nap."

"Or anywhere else you want to go."

The two played off each other, pushing their product.

"Thanks, but no," Silven shook his head. "Our first class is History of Magic."

"Alright, you really don't need it then," Fred grumbled, stowing away the candies.

Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, was a ghost. He had taught at Hogwarts for years, then fell asleep in front of the staff room fireplace—and the next day, when he came to class, forgot to bring his body, and thus died.

Yet he never stopped teaching. He became Hogwarts' only ghost professor, continuing to instruct students in History of Magic.

One must admit, Hogwarts' governors were truly inhumane—they even exploited ghosts.

No rest needed, no meals, no salary… If Hogwarts had a professor ranking, Binns would forever hold first place.

But due to the inherent limitations of ghosts, the quality of this professor's lessons was poor; after losing his body and brain, his lectures became nothing but rote recitation, and he never paid attention to what happened in class.

Students could sleep, chat, or play wizard's chess—all as long as they kept the noise down; they could do whatever they liked.

Thus, History of Magic had the lowest dropout rate of any class.

With such high classroom freedom, there was no need to skip—it wasn't worth the risk of being caught by other professors.

For someone like Silven, who planned to catch up on sleep, History of Magic was the perfect choice.

"I want to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, is there still time?" Silven asked casually.

"There is, if you don't mind being late," Fred said. "Speaking of which, you didn't go to the Great Hall this morning, and you just missed the most exciting part."

"What?" Silven glanced at the time.

Class started in ten minutes; if he went to breakfast now he'd definitely be late, unless he could guarantee that every staircase was in the right place.

But the odds weren't good — those staircases loved to pick on first-years.

"A Nimbus 2000!" George said, his tone excited. "Can you believe it? Someone gave Harry Potter a brand-new broomstick."

"And Wood told us he'll be Gryffindor's new Seeker."

"Professor McGonagall said he's the most talented Seeker."

"This is Gryffindor's most hopeful year yet — we're definitely going to win the Quidditch Cup."

Watching the twins suddenly catch fire like that, Silven silently took a step back and decisively chose to head to the classroom first.

He really couldn't understand what was so exciting about these Quidditch people — what was thrilling about riding a stick? That thing would only be interesting with a wand core added in, and the rules ought to be changed so you could cast magic in the air.

(End of chapter)