Everything the Professor says is completely right!

Not just Ian.

In fact, all the young wizards in the classroom were somewhat bewildered, unable to understand why Professor McGonagall had suddenly lost her temper. Wasn't it just a puff of greenish smoke?

"Before class, I remember reminding you that caution is the primary rule when learning Transfiguration." Professor McGonagall glared at Ian with a look that seemed ready to spit fire.

"But clearly, Mr. Prince, you have not kept that firmly in mind." The stern expression on the face of the elder cat-lady radiated an overwhelming severity.

It made Ian instinctively shrink his neck.

"Apologize, Professor, I was just having a sudden whim to try something out." Ian felt that he was actually quite cautious; he had merely attempted to turn a match into a mist-like version of the Draught of Peace.

He had even suppressed the urge to turn it into a mist-like Amortentia.

Wasn't that cautious enough?

Besides.

This whimsical attempt hadn't even succeeded. Ian could sense that while the smoke indeed possessed the color of the potion, it lacked the functions unique to magical brews.

Perhaps Ian's current Transfiguration level was simply not high enough yet?

【Transfiguration (Level 3) 6/800】

Following Professor McGonagall's instruction and his own comprehension just moments ago, Ian's [Transfiguration] had achieved an astonishing leap forward, which was why he had managed to create the smoke.

Only.

A Level 3 [Transfiguration] clearly could not support Ian's wild imagination. Anything potentially bearing magical traces was difficult to transform; he wondered whether extraordinary traits or legendary traits could make up for this deficiency.

"Have you considered the consequences if another young wizard accidentally inhaled that smoke of yours?" Professor McGonagall's expression softened just a tiny fraction after hearing Ian's apology.

Yet she remained exceptionally serious.

"They would die."

Ian gave a concise and straightforward response. Of course he knew the potential dangers of Transfiguration smoke, and he had no intention of using his classmates for experiments.

Actually.

Ian could distinctly feel that as long as he did not actively withdraw that influence, the effect of the Transfiguration would likely persist for... a very, very long time.

Perhaps longer than the lifespans of many young wizards.

"Knowing that, why did you still make such a dangerous attempt?" Professor McGonagall's eyes locked onto Ian, a hint of latent worry lingering in the depths of her gaze.

Could it be.

Was Hogwarts about to welcome another exceptionally talented bad seed?

"I didn't think that much at the time. I was entirely consumed by thinking and trying to understand the mysteries of Transfiguration, wondering if it might also be possible to turn objects into gases or liquids."

Ian knew this was clearly not the time to be stubborn, so he honestly employed the art of language—telling only half the truth.

Hearing this.

Professor McGonagall was momentarily stunned.

Immediately after, both her gaze and expression softened quite a bit.

"Very well, Mr. Prince. The emergence of such a situation is clearly also my oversight." The elder cat-lady sighed, speaking in a tone of mild vexation.

"I didn't expect any young wizard in their very first class to be capable of such an advanced level of transformation. Therefore, certain matters I had intended to cover in later lessons."

"Now it seems that to prevent similar incidents from happening again, I need to revise my lesson plans." Professor McGonagall said as she glanced around at the young wizards in the classroom.

"There are important matters within Transfiguration. Aside from Gamp's Law of Elemental Transgression which you will study later, there are also things you must be vigilant about once your study of Transfiguration reaches an advanced stage."

At this point.

Professor McGonagall cast another look of astonished admiration at Ian.

Only then did she continue, "What Mr. Prince did just now belongs to the category you must be sufficiently cautious about. Transforming objects into gases and liquids is extremely dangerous."

"Just like the smoke from earlier, if someone were to inhale it into their body, once the spell lost control or expired, countless wood splinters would ravage the inhaler's blood vessels and lungs."

Professor McGonagall's earnest voice was laden with pedagogical weight.

And right at that moment.

"Isn't that rather brilliant, though?"

A soft murmur sounded exceptionally clear in the quieted classroom.

Ian abruptly turned his head to look.

He discovered that the murmurer was that cute little witch who had wanted to turn her younger brother into a rainbow pony.

He couldn't help but double-check his schedule.

Today was indeed a shared class with Hufflepuff!

In fact.

"Of course it is brilliant, Miss Laura, only..."

Professor McGonagall's expression was exceptionally grave.

"It amounts to murder. Perhaps the only way that person could possibly survive is if they happened to be inside St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries at that exact moment. I will never allow anyone to attempt to treat anyone else in such a manner."

"Whoever dares to joke about such things, expulsion will no longer be the harshest punishment for them."

Professor McGonagall's words were delivered syllable by syllable, laden with a severe warning. All the young wizards in the room fell utterly silent, intimidated by the professor's somewhat terrifying aura.

Ian also lowered his head, not daring to talk back.

"Mr. Prince, you have accomplished what many upper-year students find difficult to achieve, and your pace of progress far exceeds my expectations. I hope you will keep the principle of caution firmly in mind."

Professor McGonagall offered one last earnest admonition to Ian, her tone not quite as harsh as it had been at the beginning, before checking the time on the classroom wall clock and dismissing the class.

Finally freed from the solemn atmosphere, the young wizards quickly cleared out. Professor McGonagall tidied up the teaching materials on her desk, watching as Ian, William, and Michael walked out of the classroom.

She opened her mouth.

Yet in the end, she stopped herself, leaving her words unsaid.

"Ian, you have to teach me!"

"Goodness! Professor McGonagall looked terrifying just now! I declare her the scariest professor!"

His two roommates chattered away.

Insisting that they needed to go eat something substantial to replenish their brains.

Since the term had just begun.

The schedule was not overly packed. After the morning Transfiguration class, the second class wouldn't arrive until the afternoon—a nightmare in the hearts of many Hogwarts students.

Potions class.

"I still need to mail a letter, you guys go ahead." Ian had long since tucked his written letter inside his robes, and he remembered that the Hogwarts Owlery was located in the West Tower.

It probably wasn't far?

After parting ways with his two roommates, Ian asked an upper-year senior student for directions along the way. The senior girl was extremely helpful and even suggested that she could take him out on a night stroll that evening to familiarize himself with the castle.

The more he listened.

The more Ian felt something was amiss.

Why would a night stroll require chocolate sauce and new clothes?

"I'm only eleven! Does Hogwarts not have a minor protection act?" Faced with the enthusiastic senior, Ian offered his thanks and fled in panic, making his way all the way up to the Owlery.

The Owlery was located at the very top of the West Tower of Hogwarts Castle. Students had to reach it by climbing a narrow spiral staircase.

The owlery was a circular stone room with a unique and rustic ambiance. The floor was strewn with straw, owl droppings, and mouse bones regurgitated by the owls.

On the perches at the very top of the room, hundreds of owls roosted. These owls varied widely in breed, covering every possible variety. He honestly wondered why those young wizards bothered buying their own owls.

"Deliver a letter for me to Wool's Orphanage." Ian selected a small, white-faced scops owl, pulling out a handful of freeze-dried treats that only tasted slightly off.

He had clearly tasted them just last week.

"Hoot~"

The owl accepted the errand, though it didn't eat Ian's freeze-dried treat. Just as Ian was about to leave, he noticed a litter of straw on the floor and a mouse that was likely part of the owlery's reserved food supply.

The mouse was trembling in the corner.

A few owls surrounded it with keen interest, yet none of them bothered to take a bite.

"Poor little fellow."

On a sudden whim.

Ian drew his wand.

"Vera Verto!"

Driven by magic.

Some of the straw transformed into yellowish-orange gas, guided by Ian's will and magic-infused intent, silently drifting into the nostrils of the trembling mouse.

Like ordinary air.

The mouse remained entirely unaware.

And right at that moment.

"Vera Verto!"

Feeling the link between himself and his Transfiguration creation, Ian cast a secondary transformation. The next instant, countless sharp steel needles violently burst outward from within the mouse's body.

Torn flesh.

Flying blood.

The mouse in the corner didn't even have time to shriek before gaining its release, and the surrounding owls beat their wings in fright, retreating far away from the suddenly "mutated" spiked mouse.

"There should still be plenty of room for improvement. I shall call this spell the Prince Killing Curse!"

Ian felt his emotions surging slightly.

In truth, he had been inspired by Professor McGonagall, leading to his whimsical experiment just now. He felt that all the warnings Professor McGonagall had given earlier were completely correct.

Especially the reminder that caution is the primary element.

Now.

As he attempted to create a new magical attack method, he had cautiously solved the problem of whether the inhaler might actually survive if they happened to be at St. Mungo's Hospital at the time.

"It really pays to have professional teachers guiding you!"