Chapter 282: Spell Strength

After a period of repeated research, Allen finally created a potion to preserve his transfiguration products, which he named the Permanent Potion.

Allen submerged his transfiguration product in it and found that, as expected the next day, it had not vanished entirely—but neither had it fully persisted, just as Professor Snape had said: the success rate was low.

Allen estimated that less than 20% of the transfigured product remained; the rest had disappeared entirely...

Finally, Allen calculated the cost: each casting of a spell or designated talent transfiguration required 20 Jin Jialong worth of potion to preserve the result.

Although preserving the Pokémon parts he transfigured was of immense significance to him, this level of expenditure plunged his already tight finances into deeper hardship.

To cope, Allen had no choice but to further exploit the Basilisk; although his massive output had already driven down the Basilisk’s magical material prices by 50%, as long as the Basilisk still had one intact scale, Allen would not go bankrupt.

Even under this extreme pressure, Allen’s research continued to advance.

He used his preserved magical materials to transfigure the first creature bearing a Bulbasaur’s bud, confirming the feasibility of his transfigured-creature theory.

All of this occurred at night; during the day, he attended classes like an ordinary young wizard, even though some lessons had become barely useful—he still showed up on time, thanks to his Thinking Chamber, his perfect tool for slacking off.

Especially in Transfiguration: Allen’s research into transfiguration spells far surpassed that of his peers; he even felt that upper-year students studied transfiguration less deeply than he did.

In this Transfiguration class, Allen completed his assignment early again, earning Gryffindor three house points.

Then he sat bored, watching Harry and Ron wave their wands at the cups before them, muttering incantations; they were now learning to transfigure objects into animals, and today’s task was to turn a cup into a bird—Harry and Ron progressed slowly, having changed only the cup’s surface after half an hour.

Hermione was slightly ahead, but her transfigured bird still had its head stuck to the stem of the goblet.

Professor McGonagall observed every detail of Allen’s performance in class.

After class, Professor McGonagall kept Allen behind.

“Mr. Finis, it seems the material I teach in class is now too simple for you,” Professor McGonagall said, looking at Allen.

“No...” Allen tried to object, but met her gaze immediately and retracted his words, “It’s a little—while the current content does offer me some insight, it’s all knowledge I mastered long ago.” He softened his tone.

“Your research into transfiguration spells is undeniable,” Professor McGonagall said dismissively. “Your current proficiency with transfiguration already exceeds that of most adult wizards.” She praised Allen, rare as it was.

This statement caught Allen’s attention. “How do you know my transfiguration proficiency exceeds that of most adult wizards?” Allen felt a lack of any measurable standard to gauge a wizard’s command of a spell.

“When you transfigure an object with a transfiguration spell, how long does the effect last?” Professor McGonagall asked an unexpected question.

“About twenty-some hours,” Allen frowned, uncertainly. He vaguely understood what she was implying.

“Twenty-some hours?” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, surprised.

“Is that a lot?” Allen raised an eyebrow. He had no frame of reference for duration.

“Yes, a lot!” Professor McGonagall nodded firmly. “For adult wizards, a transfiguration lasting ten hours is already excellent.”

»

“So what’s the point?” Allen shrugged indifferently.

“It demonstrates the depth of your understanding and research into transfiguration,” Professor McGonagall said approvingly. “The deeper your study of a transfiguration spell, the longer its duration—that’s one of our key metrics for evaluating its power.”

Allen still wore an expression of mild disinterest.

“Do you know why different wizards produce different strengths when casting the same spell?” Professor McGonagall continued.

Allen shook his head. He had thought about this before, but never deeply.

Logically, if casting a spell merely involved sending parameters to the World Will, then identical spells should have identical power, since the wizard merely requests the magic, and the World Will manifests it.

But reality was different: the gap in power between wizards casting the same spell was greater than that between a man and a dog.

Thinking of this, Allen’s interest was piqued by Professor McGonagall.

He adopted an attentive posture.

“Wizards noticed this phenomenon long ago,” Professor McGonagall continued. “The widely accepted theory now is that a wizard’s depth of study into a spell determines the strength of its casting.”

Allen had suspected this himself.

“But wizards later discovered another factor: depth of study in one spell doesn’t just determine its base power—it can also enhance the power of other spells you cast. Once you reach a certain level of mastery in one spell, it boosts your overall magical potency.”

Allen was momentarily confused by her words.

“For example, if you study the Lumos spell deeply enough, that mastery will slightly increase the power of every other spell you cast. The boost is small, but when you reach that threshold across many spells, the cumulative effect becomes significant.”

“Studying a spell deeply can actually increase spell strength?” Allen murmured.

“Spell strength? That’s an accurate term,” Professor McGonagall praised. “Thus, powerful wizards have deeply studied many spells. A wizard’s strength ultimately stems from their knowledge.”

Allen’s brow furrowed deeply. The logic held, yet it left him with a persistent feeling: studying magic seemed to raise a wizard’s permissions from the World Will—the higher the permission, the greater the spell’s power...

(https://)

Please remember the original publication domain: . Mobile reading URL: