[HP] Chapter 183-185

Chapter 183: Key Points of the Transfiguration Candy

At that moment, Louis—who was in the Room of Requirement—had no idea what was happening with Hermione.

He was staring seriously at the one-point-six-meter-tall “canary” in front of him, deep in thought.

“So your breakthrough,” Louis began slowly, “is that you managed to turn a bald freakish bird into a full-feathered golden... sorry, but I really can’t bring myself to call that giant lump a canary.”

Holding a pocket watch in one hand, he pointed at the enormous bird that George had become.

“We did our best,” Fred said helplessly, shrugging. “To turn into a proper canary, we’d need a shrinking potion, but the Candy’s ingredients are already complicated enough. Add anything more, and it’ll probably blow up.”

Poof!

A puff of white smoke erupted, and George returned to his normal form.

“How long did it last?” George spat out a mouthful of feathers—apparently one of the side effects of the Candy.

“Two and a half minutes,” Louis replied, snapping his pocket watch shut. “A big improvement, but still not enough.”

“Two and a half minutes is plenty! As a joke product, even a few seconds of transformation is already hilarious,” said Fred.

“As a joke, sure—but as a piece of real magic, it’s nowhere near good enough.” Louis pocketed his watch, picked up one of the Candys, and popped it into his mouth.

George and Fred leaned forward eagerly, clearly waiting to see the giant bird: Louis edition.

Unfortunately for them, nothing happened. Louis remained perfectly normal—his Horse Talisman charm ignored any foreign magical interference. A mere potion wasn’t going to affect him.

“The potion flavor’s too strong—it’s bitter. I take back what I said earlier…” Louis swallowed, then gave the twins a glance filled with disappointment. “Even as a gag item, it doesn’t pass.”

“But there’s no helping it,” George protested. “You need a high enough potion concentration for the transformation to work—of course it’ll taste bitter.”

“Then think about a substitute ingredient.” Louis tapped his finger on the table, slipping into thought.

The potion the twins used merely caused feather growth—the so-called “canary” was just a convenient name.

If they really wanted to make a Candy capable of turning someone into an animal, they’d have to start from the potion itself.

It seemed the twins wouldn’t get far without a bit of guidance.

Leaning over the desk, Louis pulled over parchment and quill, writing down three key components:

-Polyjuice Potion

-Animagus Transformation Spell

-Boggart

George and Fred peered over the table, frowning in concentration at the list.

The Polyjuice Potion needed no explanation—it could completely alter one’s physiology into another person’s, or even a partial animal form.

Moste Potente Potions, the book detailing it, was already dog-eared in the Restricted Section; the twins had read it long ago.

As for the Animagus Transformation Spell, that was even more complicated—a ritual and potion combination that fixed a transformation animal form into one’s magic, allowing voluntary shapeshifting into that specific creature.

The twins had coveted that ability for ages, but completing the ritual was ridiculously difficult.

First, you had to hold a mandrake leaf in your mouth from one full moon to the next—without swallowing or spitting it out even once. Otherwise, you’d have to start all over again.

That part completely stumped the twins—asking them not to talk was about as easy as killing them.

Then came the next step of the ritual: “At the full moon, place the saliva-soaked leaf into a crystal phial under moonlight, then add a strand of your own hair, one teaspoon of pure dew, and the chrysalis of a Death’s-head Moth.”

The problem was, if it happened to be cloudy on the night of the full moon—congratulations, you’d have to start all over again from step one.

And it got even more complicated after that. The mixture then had to be buried in a pitch-dark place where no light could reach it, and you had to wait for a thunderstorm. If no storm came, you just kept waiting.

During that entire period, you had to point your wand at your heart and chant the spell every sunrise and sunset.

With such an absurdly complex ritual, there was no way the twins could complete it on their own.

As for the last term—Boggart…

“Boggart is… what again?” George asked, scratching his head.

“Sounds familiar…” Fred said, frowning in thought.

Louis was silent for a long while before replying, “Defense Against the Dark Arts, third year, first chapter.”

“Oh! Right, that’s it! Now I remember.” George and Fred suddenly realized. “It’s all that fraud Quirrell’s fault!”

According to the curriculum, they should’ve learned about Boggarts last year, but that idiot never got around to it.

Louis rubbed his temples and explained patiently,

“A Boggart is a shapeless magical creature—no one’s ever seen its true form. It turns into whatever a person fears most, taking shape from that fear.”

“Sounds incredible,” Fred murmured.

“Yeah. What happens if you put two Boggarts together?” George wondered aloud.

“That’s not something we need to think about,” Louis said flatly. “I don’t care what they actually look like.”

He circled the word Boggart on the parchment.

“This is what we should study most closely. Its method of transformation is the most mysterious. If we can figure that out, the so-called Transfiguration Candy won’t be a problem at all.”

“You’re right!” George clapped his hands. “A Boggart can turn into anything—that’s exactly what we need.”

“And it’s more reliable than the Animagus Transformation Spell,” Fred added, nodding in agreement.

“Besides the Boggart, we should also experiment with Polyjuice Potion,” Louis continued. “It’s a transformation-based potion as well, and its effects shouldn’t be underestimated.”

“But Polyjuice takes a month to brew,” George objected, “and we’ve never made it before.”

“Leave the potion to me.” Louis drew a firm circle around Polyjuice Potion. “I’ll handle it.”

With his Magical Potion Bottle, something like the Polyjuice Potion was no challenge at all.

“This Boggart, though—that’s your job.” Louis tapped the word with his quill. “They like to hide in cupboards, under the floor, in cracks between walls. You might find traces of them in Hogwarts. Ask the ghosts or the house-elves—they might have seen one.”

“No problem.”

Now that Louis had taken care of the hardest part, the twins were more than happy to deal with the smaller tasks.

“What about the Animagus Transformation Spell?” Fred asked, pointing at the last unmarked point on the list. “Honestly, I think it’s the one that fits our research best—it’s just way too hard.”

“For now… we’ll set it aside,” Louis said. “Handle the easy parts first, then tackle the tough ones.”

“Alright.”

The twins exchanged a glance, then stretched out their hands toward Louis.

“Come on, let’s seal the deal—wish us success!”

“Let’s do it!”

Their three palms clapped together with a satisfying smack.

After that, the three of them went their separate ways.

Louis stood there, holding the parchment with the three circled key points, and a knowing smile spread across his face.

Give up on something that important? Impossible.

The Animagus Transformation Spell was the most wizard-like form of shapeshifting there was. Without studying it, Louis wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

“After all,” he murmured, taking out the Marauder’s Map and looking at the names moving across it, “I already have the perfect test subject… don’t I?”

Louis smiled.

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Chapter 184: Let the Duel Begin

Louis had barely descended a few floors from the Room of Requirement when a group of running young wizards caught his attention. Their hurried conversation echoed down the corridor.

“Come on, hurry! I heard there’s a duel at the Quidditch pitch!”

“A duel? Between who?”

“They say it’s that prettiest girl from Slytherin and Malfoy.”

“Huh? But they’re both Slytherins! Why would they duel each other?”

“Apparently… because of a Ravenclaw girl.”

“What? Over a girl?”

The last boy’s tone trailed off in a way that made the others snicker and imagine all sorts of things.

Quidditch pitch… a Slytherin duel… involving a Ravenclaw girl?

Those clues spun together in Louis’s mind, and the answer became obvious.

“That Ravenclaw girl—could it be Hermione? What on earth are those two Slytherins thinking?” Louis’s first thought was that some Slytherin brats had probably lost their minds again.

With that, he folded away his Marauder’s Map and set off toward the Quidditch field.

To make it there faster—and not miss the show—Louis used both his Acceleration and Levitation powers, diving straight out the nearest window. He didn’t bother to hide it; after all, what was so strange about a wizard flying?

Meanwhile, on the eighth floor of the castle, Headmaster Dumbledore was standing by his window, gently preening the feathers of baby Fawkes.

After a few months of growth, the phoenix had gone from thumb-sized chick to a bird about the size of a fist.

Its growth rate was much slower than before, but Dumbledore wasn’t worried. After being drained of so much phoenix fire by Dio Brando, Fawkes’s very essence had been damaged—slow recovery was to be expected.

Suddenly, a pink streak flashed past the window. Louis, flying at full speed, zipped right before Dumbledore’s eyes—startling the old wizard so much that his hand slipped and plucked two tail feathers clean off Fawkes.

“Gaaah!” squawked Fawkes, glaring furiously and giving Dumbledore a sharp peck on the finger.

“Oh—terribly sorry, Fawkes. I got distracted for a moment,” Dumbledore apologized, soothing the offended bird before quietly pocketing the two feathers.

“Well… I’ll send these to Ollivander later. I’m sure he’ll find a use for them.”

At Louis’s breakneck speed, it didn’t take long for him to reach the Quidditch pitch. A massive crowd had gathered there.

Around the field were layer upon layer of students watching, while a dozen Quidditch players hovered above the stands on their brooms—Slytherins and Gryffindors alike.

For once, they weren’t yelling at each other; instead, they were sitting side by side in rare harmony, united by the promise of a good show.

Among them, Harry and Ron were sharing a single broom, leaning close together—looking, frankly, very affectionate.

“What on earth are you two doing?” Louis floated up beside their broom, glancing down at the field below. “Cassandra and Malfoy? They’re the ones dueling?”

Harry and Ron, who had been watching intently, turned in surprise at the voice beside them—only to realize Louis was standing upright in midair.

They nearly fell off their broom in shock.

“Louis—you can fly?!” Harry gasped, eyes wide with envy. “What kind of advanced magic is that?”

“Well,” Louis replied with mock solemnity, “you could say it’s… a natural talent.”

He smirked and lifted a hand.

Instantly, soft pink petals bloomed beneath his feet—tiny flowers unfurling in midair, surrounding him as though he were gliding atop a drifting sea of blossoms.

A gentle breeze swept across the pitch, carrying the petals into the sky, swirling around the spectators in a dazzling shower of color.

Harry reached out and caught one of the drifting petals. The soft texture against his fingers made his eyes widen.

“These are real flowers!” he exclaimed in shock.

“Of course,” Louis replied with an easy smile, maintaining a fragment of his inherent barrier just to show off. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Below, the crowd began to notice the cascade of petals filling the air. Heads tilted upward, fingers pointed, and a wave of astonished cries spread across the Quidditch pitch.

> [You have used your inherent barrier and talismanic power to deceive 73 underage wizards.]

> [You have gained 2,100 Trick Points. Current total: 191,800.]

“Alright, you lot keep watching—I’ll head down for a closer look.”

Pocketing his newly earned Trick Points, Louis dispelled both the barrier and his levitation charm, dropping straight down.

The crowd surrounding Cassandra, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione scattered as Louis landed lightly in their midst.

In the wizarding world, there were thousands of kinds of magic—countless secret spells known only to individuals. Even Dumbledore wouldn’t claim to have mastered them all. So, no one was particularly shocked to see Louis flying through the air.

Magic, after all, was extraordinary by nature.

“Quite the crowd you’ve drawn,” Louis said with a grin, giving Hermione a little wave. “So, what’s going on? Fill me in.”

Hermione hesitated, glancing at Cassandra and Malfoy.

She wasn’t sure whether to speak. If she told Louis and let him punish Malfoy, wouldn’t that be a bit disrespectful to Cassandra, who clearly wanted to handle it herself?

“Maybe we should let them settle it on their own?” she asked quietly, seeking Louis’s opinion.

“Alright,” Louis said agreeably, nodding. “But I can probably guess anyway—did this idiot start running his mouth again?”

Across from them, Malfoy—who had already wilted the moment Louis appeared—looked even more nervous.

He was suddenly regretting everything. Why had he decided to pick on Hermione of all people?

It was one of those moments where he realized how brave he thought he was before things actually got real.

Louis chuckled softly and looked between Cassandra and Malfoy. “Well, since you both look ready to duel, let’s not waste time. I’ll act as referee. How about that?”

“Fine by me,” Cassandra said instantly.

Malfoy, however, froze—hesitant and pale.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy?” Louis teased. “You’re not afraid of a girl who’s a year younger than you, are you?”

“I—of course I’m not afraid!” Malfoy stammered. “But you have to promise not to interfere!”

Deep down, he was terrified that Louis might rig the duel somehow—make him lose to a first-year who hadn’t even been at Hogwarts a full week yet. The humiliation would be unbearable.

“So that’s what you’re worried about,” Louis said with a light laugh. “Relax, I won’t step in. And I’ll even promise you this: if you win the duel, I’ll stay out of whatever happened earlier. I won’t trouble you at all.”

“Really?” Malfoy’s eyes lit up, hope flickering across his face.

“Of course. I keep my word,” Louis said pleasantly—then his tone dropped several degrees colder.

“But if you lose… you’d better stop by Madam Pomfrey’s office afterward and ask for a week’s supply of Calming Draught.”

The moment the words left his mouth, not only Malfoy but most of the onlookers shivered involuntarily.

Up above, Harry—still on his broom—leaned toward Ron and whispered, “You think Louis means he’s gonna give Malfoy nightmares for a week?”

“Sounds like it,” Ron replied. “What do you think?”

Harry grinned broadly. “I think that’s brilliant.”

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Chapter 185: Cassandra’s Combat Power

A week’s dose of Calming Draught.

The moment Malfoy heard those words, his first instinct was to drop his wand and run.

But facing Cassandra gave him just enough courage to stay.

After all, she was only a first-year — how much magic could she possibly have learned in a week?

At best, she might know a basic Levitation Spell or a simple Transfiguration Spell, right?

He, on the other hand, had been studying at Hogwarts for a year already and had even learned a bit of Dark Magic from his father at home.

No matter how he looked at it, he had to be stronger than some little first-year girl.

“You said it yourself, no backing out now!” Malfoy said, trembling but excited — he was sure this time he could escape unscathed.

“Of course. I never go back on my word,” Louis replied with a calm smile, glancing from Malfoy to Cassandra.

Cassandra, however, looked at Malfoy with undisguised disgust — and then at Louis with mild annoyance.

“You’ve got quite a lot of faith in me,” she said dryly.

“Obviously,” Louis said with a grin. “Now go on — good luck.”

He raised his hand slightly, giving the signal.

“Duel—begin!”

Someone in the crowd shouted it aloud, startling Malfoy so badly he nearly dropped his wand.

Panicking, he scrambled to raise it and immediately shouted his first spell:

“Densaugeo!”

With a proper wand flourish and clear enunciation, a flash of spell-light shot toward Cassandra.

It was the same hex Hermione had once used on the troll — the Tooth-Growth Jinx, which made the victim’s front teeth grow uncontrollably, sometimes even piercing through the lower lip.

Cruel and humiliating, especially when used on a girl.

Still, one had to admit: from a student’s standpoint, Malfoy’s form was textbook-perfect.

If this had been in Professor Flitwick’s Charms class, he’d have gotten top marks for precision and pronunciation.

Unfortunately, dueling wasn’t about textbook form.

Big gestures and clearly spoken incantations only gave your opponent more warning — and more time to react.

Cassandra didn’t panic. She didn’t rush to counterattack, either.

She simply stepped gracefully to the side, her skirt swirling lightly around her.

The spell whooshed past her shoulder and hit an unlucky spectator in the crowd instead — whom Louis casually healed with a flick of his hand.

“Everyone watching, spread out to both sides,” Louis called out like a proper referee. “Give the duelers space so no one else gets hit.”

The name Louis Wilson carried weight. Within moments, the onlookers obeyed, forming two neat lines with Cassandra and Malfoy standing between them.

Cassandra still didn’t rush to strike back. She seemed almost bored, her eyes flicking toward Louis as he organized the spectators.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was starting to lose his nerve. His first spell had missed, and Cassandra’s calm indifference was making him sweat.

He was used to turn-based, tit-for-tat duels — you cast, the other defends, then they cast back.

This… silence was unnerving.

“D—damn it!” he yelled, lifting his wand again in another exaggeratedly perfect flourish.

“Tarantallegra!”

Another classic student spell — the Dancing Curse, forcing the target’s legs to flail uncontrollably in a frenzied tap dance.

But this time, Cassandra didn’t dodge. She stepped forward instead, meeting the spell head-on.

With a sharp crack, she brought her wand up just in time — the spell-light burst harmlessly against the magic radiating from it.

In the same smooth motion, she pointed her wand straight at Malfoy.

“Impedimenta!”

The spell shot out like a beam of light, solidifying into a force barrier that raced toward him.

Malfoy’s face turned pale. He yelped and dove sideways, rolling across the ground in a plume of dust — hardly the graceful duelist he imagined himself to be.

When he finally scrambled up, he looked more like a refugee than a pure-blood aristocrat.

The Impediment Jinx slammed into the sandy floor of the Quidditch pitch, blasting out a shallow crater.

Had that hit Malfoy directly, he would probably have been lying on the ground sobbing by now.

“Impedimenta!”

Hermione gasped from the sidelines. Cassandra’s execution of the Impediment Jinx was far smoother and sharper than Hermione’s had ever been in her first year.

“She’s a pure-blood,” Louis said quickly, reassuring her. “She’s had more exposure to magic at home. It’s natural she’d pick things up faster.”

His words carried over the pitch and reached Cassandra’s ears. She shot both Louis and Hermione an icy glance, gave a short, cold snort, and missed the perfect chance to press her advantage.

Malfoy scrambled back to his feet, his face blotchy red and pale by turns. Humiliated and furious, he decided to use the dark spell he’d only just learned over the summer.

Pure-blood families didn’t really care about the Ministry’s rule forbidding underage wizards from practicing magic outside school; many even trained their children in Dark Arts deliberately.

Malfoy raised his wand, making a series of complicated, precise gestures before shouting:

“Serpensortia!” Serpent’s Out!)

Gasps rippled through the students as a thick, venomous snake burst from the tip of his wand, slithering onto the sandy pitch and gliding toward Cassandra.

Its movement left rippling tracks in the sand. The snake lifted its head, black tongue flickering, and hissed menacingly at her.

The students all took a cautious step back.

Even the Slytherins didn’t want to get too close. They were from the House of the Serpent, not an actual nest of serpents, and no one fancied being bitten.

As for the students of other houses—they’d already retreated as far as they could.

Serpensortia, huh? That should be a summoning variant of Transfiguration,” Louis murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

Transfiguration was a massive branch of wizardry—summoning, vanishing, and transformation all fell under its scope.

And one key fact: a Summoning Spell could never create something from nothing. It merely pulled the object—like that viper—from somewhere else.

“Another piece of magic that defies logic,” Louis mused. “Sounds even more impressive than Accio or Apparition.”

A snake—terrifying to most people, and doubly so for girls.

Cassandra instinctively stepped back when the serpent hissed and coiled before her. Then her gaze flicked toward Malfoy.

She hadn’t learned any Vanishing Spells or incantations capable of destroying the snake… so she decided to go for the source instead.

“Expelliarmus!”

Cassandra lifted her wand and fired the Disarming Charm faster than anyone expected.

A flash of red light hit Malfoy square in the chest, hurling him backward and sending his wand spinning through the air—right into Cassandra’s waiting hand.

“I win,” Cassandra said coolly, holding his wand up.

Wooooah!” Cheers erupted from every side.

It was technically an internal Slytherin fight, but that didn’t stop the crowd from celebrating.

Maybe they were just having fun watching the spectacle.

But the sudden outburst startled the snake. With a sharp hiss, it lunged toward the nearest target—Cassandra herself—fangs bared.

Cassandra’s composure finally cracked; her face drained of color as she stumbled backward and fell onto the sand.

The cheers died instantly. The entire crowd froze, holding their breath as the snake leapt at the victorious girl.

Just before it struck her face, a bolt of lightning split the air—so fast it was almost invisible.

Crack!

The flash hit the snake’s head dead-on, vaporizing it in an instant.

Cassandra stared blankly as the ashes scattered across the ground, then looked up to see Louis standing nearby, the tip of his wand smoking faintly.

It was the Lightning Eye, the fastest attack among the talismanic powers—near light-speed, and capable of firing from any limb, including the wand.

In fact, all talisman powers could be channeled as spells through a wand—quite convenient, really.

…And, well, theoretically, from any other body part too.

But Louis wasn’t nearly mad enough to make his little brother do unnecessary extra work.

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