Chapter 12: Seeking the Cause

The three sat down, Professor Dumbledore gazing at him through his thin spectacles as he waved his wand, “Would you like something to drink? Pumpkin juice? Milk?” He blinked suddenly. “I also have fresh butterbeer.”

Professor McGonagall coughed once, expressionless.

“Ha! You’re still growing—have some milk.” Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand lightly, and a steaming cup of milk floated to Alan’s side.

Alan took a small sip; the taste was good.

After drinking, the conversation turned to the matter at hand.

“Alan, I believed I understood your condition thoroughly, but today’s events surprised me. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Professor Dumbledore’s blue eyes regarded Alan through his half-moon spectacles.

Alan described the discussion they’d had the previous day about Flying class.

“The discussion thrilled me—I’d never longed for flight so intensely. I even dreamed of flying in my sleep! Oh, I was flying with wings—I think today’s change might be related to that.” Alan concluded.

Professor Dumbledore placed his hands before him, his expression thoughtful. “Ah, strong emotions may indeed trigger transformation—but it seems insufficient.”

“When you were at St. Mungo’s, you had several intense emotional surges—yet you never changed this dramatically then,” Professor Dumbledore added softly.

Alan gripped his cup tightly, recalling his time at St. Mungo’s. His emotional fluctuations right after waking had been far stronger than yesterday’s—but he’d shown no abnormal changes.

“Don’t rush—think carefully. Perhaps your body has grown stronger, allowing more drastic transformations. But these explanations still lack conviction. Think again—this concerns your future.” Professor Dumbledore guided him patiently.

Alan’s mind churned in confusion. “What could it be? Could it be that being with Harry and the others awakened my friendship, triggering the change?” The former engineer quickly dismissed the idea—it was absurd.

Alan meticulously recalled every detail from last night and this morning, while Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall waited patiently.

Suddenly, a flash of insight struck Alan. He urgently told the two professors: “I’ve got it! This morning, when I woke up, I found my hand gripping my wand.”

“Uh… I treasure my wand deeply—I always carefully place it in the bedside drawer before sleeping. But last night, I got so excited chatting with classmates that I fell asleep without putting it away. I left it on the bedside, and this morning I found my hand resting on it.” Alan added, flustered.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged a glance, each sinking into thought.

The headmaster’s office fell silent once more.

Long moments passed before Professor Dumbledore finally returned to himself.

“This might make sense,” Professor Dumbledore organized his words. “Do you know the history and function of wands?”

Alan responded with a confused look.

“Hmm. No one knows who invented the wand, but its emergence allowed many wizards to cast spells. Before wands, wizards practiced wandless magic—a technique still nearly impossible to master today,” Professor Dumbledore explained.

“The wand drastically lowered the barrier to spellcasting, giving wizards with weaker magical talent a chance to wield magic.”

“As for your case, I speculate this: if you treat your daily random transformation as a spell, then previously you were performing wandless magic—but without truly mastering it, the spell’s power remained weak, limiting changes to your head organs.”

“But today, you held your wand during the transformation. This greatly amplified your spell’s power, so the change extended beyond your head.” Professor Dumbledore summarized swiftly.

It was a logical explanation. Alan drifted into thought.

Professor McGonagall rose and studied Alan’s wings, her eyes filled with awe. “What a miraculous spell! Alan, do you know? Throughout recorded history, no wizard has ever grown such enormous wings on their own body. You’ve achieved what no one in the magical world has!”

Professor Dumbledore also observed Alan’s wings, marveling: “Ah, these are truly flight-capable wings. Since Alan’s body hasn’t evolved like a bird’s—for example, with weight reduction or hollow bones—the wings must be much larger than those of a similarly sized bird to enable flight. I never imagined such magic existed!”

Fawkes, the phoenix, who had woken up long ago and watched the scene in silence, let out an approving cry.

“You’d better not fly with these wings,” Professor McGonagall added with concern. “Birds fly by instinct—you have no such instinct. Though you now possess the physical conditions for flight, you must proceed with caution. At the very least, master the Levitation Charm before attempting to fly.”

“Understood. I value my life more than anyone else!” Alan assured Professor McGonagall.

“Professor Dumbledore, could you tell me more about the wand’s function?” Alan’s thirst for knowledge returned.

“The wand,” Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, “is currently believed by magical theory to deepen our connection with the world.”

Alan drained his cup of milk. “Thank you, Professor, for clarifying this—I’ll never sleep with my wand again!”

Professor Dumbledore crossed his hands, his gaze sharp. “Alan, stop avoiding this.”

Alan froze, unsure what to say.

“I’ve observed you for a long time. I’ve noticed you hold a pessimistic attitude toward your condition, always trying to escape. The best way to resolve your body’s issue is to face it directly. Only by gathering more transformation samples can we better treat you.” Professor Dumbledore’s blue eyes glinted with intensity—nothing like the gaze of a centenarian.

Sweat broke on Alan’s brow. He hurriedly defended himself: “I’m not avoiding it—I’m afraid of harmful transformations injuring myself.”

Professor Dumbledore interrupted: “Why do you assume your talent will harm you? Haven’t you studied the four elements of spellcasting? Haven’t you learned Transfiguration? Then tell me: what is the decisive element of a Transfiguration spell?”

“The caster’s subjective intent regarding the spell’s effect,” Alan replied after a moment.

“Exactly,” Professor Dumbledore explained. “If your random transformations are spells, they’re shaped by your conscious intent!”

Alan hesitated.

“Didn’t today prove it? Yesterday you desired flight—this morning, wings appeared. Your talent is influenced by your subconscious! Do you harbor subconscious impulses to harm yourself? Do you have a self-destructive tendency? If not, how could a transformation shaped by your conscious intent harm you?” Professor Dumbledore fixed his gaze on Alan’s eyes.

Alan opened his mouth to speak—but no words came out.

“So I urge you: face this boldly. Explore the mysteries of your body. Don’t flee. Face life courageously—that is what it means to be a true Gryffindor!”

Ailun was convinced—and stirred by Professor Dumbledore’s words. A surge of Rexue rose to his head. He shouted to the two professors: “I understand! The best way to overcome fear is to face it!”

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall smiled with satisfaction. Professor McGonagall added: “Wand-induced transformation seems exhausting. Transform only within your body’s limits—exercise restraint!”

Though it sounded odd, Alan thanked Professor McGonagall for her concern and took his leave.

Shortly after Alan departed, a wild shout echoed from outside the office:

“O-L-I-V-E!”

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged a puzzled glance...