Chapter 83

The classroom fell silent as the young witches and wizards stared dumbfounded at Allen’s raised hoof; even though Allen had given them all sorts of “surprises” every day this year, this one still shattered the limits of their imagination—they never imagined Allen’s Transfiguration talent could be this elaborate...

Professor Flitwick was also stunned; despite his vast experience, he had never encountered such a precedent in the magical world, and moreover, those left claw and right hoof were clearly not ordinary animals—they were unmistakably magical creatures.

The atmosphere in the classroom grew strange. Hermione could no longer bear it; she buried her head behind her book, leaving only her fuzzy scalp visible...

“Professor, I didn’t mean to—I can only wave my wand with my left hand,” Allen said carefully, observing Flitwick’s expression and breaking the awkward silence first.

Flitwick’s anger had vanished; he understood his student was not at fault—the fault lay with the world itself. Of all the people in the room, why had Allen’s spell so perfectly struck him? He could only consider himself unlucky.

“If I’m not mistaken, your left claw is from some kind of fire dragon, and your right hoof is from a unicorn—I’ve never seen such a miraculous magical effect!” Professor Flitwick stepped before Allen to examine his left claw and right hoof.

The young witches and wizards immediately began buzzing with discussion; they hadn’t expected the origins of Allen’s Transfiguration to be so extraordinary, and their curiosity was ignited—if they weren’t in class, they’d have rushed over to inspect it up close.

Malfoy stared thoughtfully at Allen’s claws; their gazes met in midair, and Malfoy smirked with mockery and disdain.

The students were all captivated by the appearance of Allen’s two limbs, but Professor Flitwick saw something deeper.

“Allen, I’ve taught at Hogwarts for many years and instructed countless generations of young witches and wizards—each year, some student’s Levitation Charm explodes during practice.” He glanced toward Seamus Finnigan in the crowd, who shrank back under Flitwick’s gaze.

“So I’m quite familiar with the explosive force caused by failed Levitation Charms—but today’s explosion was far stronger than those caused by other students,” Flitwick carefully phrased his observation.

“So you mean... using this dragon claw to cast spells enhances the spell’s power?” Allen understood Flitwick’s implication and said, surprised.

“It’s only my personal hypothesis—the magical world has never seen a case like yours. Fire dragons don’t cast spells like wizards. Today’s incident has brought back memories of my early days in magical research—what a difficult yet fascinating time that was!” Flitwick’s voice grew unexpectedly sentimental as he pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the tears in his eyes.

Allen was utterly stunned by Flitwick’s theory—he never imagined this ugly, useless dragon claw could possess such power. He began pondering again the very nature of magic in this world.

“But we can test it—cast a Lumos spell, and imagine the light orb larger and brighter than usual!” Flitwick also wanted to verify his hypothesis.

Allen did as instructed—and indeed summoned a light orb larger and brighter than normal. The students cast at Allen looks full of envy and jealousy.

“Looks like I can write a paper on this!” Flitwick exclaimed excitedly.

Only then did he notice the students’ moods had turned strange.

“Class,” Flitwick surveyed the room, “while spell power matters, victory always depends on leveraging your strengths and avoiding your weaknesses. Don’t fixate solely on spell strength—wisdom and strategy in casting are equally vital.”

“Now, resume practicing your spells! Unless you want to fail your final exam!” Flitwick reminded the students.

The students finally pulled themselves out of envy and jealousy and began practicing again—but this time, everyone kept their distance from Allen, given Flitwick’s earlier misfortune.

Allen was perfectly content with this. He hid with Harry and Ron in a corner of the classroom, skipping practice entirely, merely voicing critiques of Harry and Ron’s casting techniques.

The afternoon class ended quickly. As Allen stepped out, he found Professor Flitwick waiting for him at the door.

“I know you’ll head to Professor McGonagall after class—I know your agreement. Lucky for you, we’re going the same way!” Flitwick smiled at Allen.

Allen groaned inwardly—he didn’t want to see McGonagall today, since the reason for his Transfiguration was hard to explain. But word of his current form had already spread; even if he avoided her, she’d come to him anyway.

So he replied, “Delighted to accompany you.”

On the way, Flitwick enthusiastically expressed his excitement over Allen’s dragon-claw spell enhancement. Allen responded half-heartedly, and soon they reached a fork in the path and parted ways.

The end of this path led to Professor McGonagall’s office.

Allen walked slowly toward McGonagall’s office; the uneven weight of his two limbs made his gait awkward.

McGonagall’s office door remained open—he saw her still busy at work.

Steeling himself, Allen tapped on her office door with his right hoof.

McGonagall looked up—and couldn’t look away.

“Mr. Finis! How did you do this?” Her eyebrows shot up.

Allen smiled bitterly. “That’s not all.” He then revealed his left claw.

McGonagall stared at Allen as if she’d discovered a new continent—Allen had never seen her so uncomposed.

As Allen expected, McGonagall asked him about any abnormalities before the Transfiguration.

What could he say? He could say nothing—only offer vague, evasive lies to placate her.

After speaking, Allen couldn’t shake the feeling that someday he’d randomly grow an absurdly long nose.

McGonagall was unsatisfied with Allen’s account, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she spoke earnestly: “The most important thing in magical research is direction. Once the direction is right, results are merely a matter of time. Your random Transfigurations each represent a correct path—even if they seem useless now, they hold immense guidance for future researchers. I hope you recognize your own value to magical research.”

Allen felt a pang of shame at her words, but regarding Hagrid, he could show nothing on his face.

Then came the routine sampling.

Then he bid farewell and left McGonagall’s office.

As Allen stepped out, he found Professor Quirrell approaching him, staring fixedly at his right hoof.

Allen realized—he’d forgotten to conceal his right hoof...