The wheelchair-bound warrior is speedrunning Hogwarts.

A barely perceptible hint of joy flashed in Vera's eyes.

This time, instead of trying to transform the beetle using her imagination as before, she let the magic flow gently, guiding and reshaping it in accordance with the beetle's own structure.

Like a precise scalpel, it precisely cuts into a specific point in the beetle's life essence, gently guiding its essence towards the concept of a "button".

Professor McGonagall happened to stroll back, her gaze falling on the button on Vera's desk.

She pushed up her glasses, looked her over carefully, and her expression began to turn serious.

“Black,” McGonagall looked up at her sharply, “try putting the button back into the beetle.”

Without hesitation, Vera tapped the amber button with her wand and whispered the spell again.

This time, her focus was on "retrospection" and "restoration," and magic flowed over the buttons like a gentle tide.

Under the watchful eyes of Professor McGonagall and several curious classmates nearby, the button once again glowed faintly, its shape rapidly stretching and changing.

Almost instantly, a live beetle reappeared on the table, shook its antennae, and began to crawl around blankly.

The whole process was equally smooth and natural, without the slightest strain, as if time had reversed.

Professor McGonagall's face showed an extremely rare expression, a mixture of surprise and admiration.

“…Exceptional Transfiguration, Miss Black.” Professor McGonagall’s voice carried a rare, undisguised admiration. “Precise, consistent, truly remarkable. Twenty points in Gryffindor.”

A low gasp and whispers rippled through the classroom. It was extremely rare for Professor McGonagall, who was known for her strictness, to give her an extra twenty points at once.

Hermione looked at the impossibly perfect button, then at her own standard white button, her lips parted slightly, and finally her gaze turned into one of admiration and a burning competitive spirit.

Harley smiled with pride, even happier than if she had succeeded herself.

“And,” Professor McGonagall leaned slightly forward and whispered to her, “Miss Black, please stay after class.”

Vera paused for a moment, then nodded and replied, "Yes, Professor."

Harley and Hermione glanced at her with concern upon hearing the noise, while Vera gave them a reassuring smile.

After the bell rang, the students left the classroom one after another.

Hach dawdled as he packed his things, until Vera urged him with her eyes again, and the two of them finally left the classroom, looking back every few steps.

Only Vera and Professor McGonagall remained in the classroom.

Professor McGonagall even waved her wand and slammed the classroom door shut.

“Miss Black,” Professor McGonagall approached Vera, her gaze more like that of a scholar who had discovered some rare and exquisite skill and was barely suppressing her joy.

"That level of transformation just now," she said, her voice filled with amazement, "the transformation you just performed... it was very special. Did it incorporate your own understanding?"

Vera was silent for a moment. Unable to explain the magic circuits and her insights from the Acropolis, she could only carefully choose her words:

"I try... not to force it to change its form, but rather to 'guide' its inherent potential to flow towards another stable form."

I noticed that if the flow of magic better aligns with certain inherent patterns within an object, the process becomes smoother and faster.

Her words were somewhat vague, but Professor McGonagall's eyes grew brighter and brighter.

“A framework? A fascinating metaphor.” Professor McGonagall repeated the word thoughtfully. “Unconventional, but highly insightful, though not the standard path found in textbooks.”

In contrast, she believes this is more of a deeper, intuitive grasp of the nature of transformation.

Last year, Vera displayed the qualities of a normally gifted student, but now Vera's revealed thoughts are more like those of an explorer who has glimpsed the deeper mysteries of Transfiguration.

Her sharp gaze scrutinized Vera through her glasses. "You seem to be trying to construct a unique transformation pattern?"

Vera felt a chill run down her spine and answered more cautiously, "Just some scattered thoughts from the summer vacation, Professor."

She hesitated for a moment before speaking: "I just think that when applying transformation spells, if we can more precisely perceive and adapt to a certain structure inside an object, rather than simply relying on magic to forcibly cover and reshape it, the effect will be better."

“Accommodate…rather than forcibly cover up…” Professor McGonagall murmured, her eyes gleaming. “A very interesting idea.”

But clearly, not to mention students, most graduated wizards would not be able to do this.

This requires extremely delicate control over magic and extraordinary perception.

She leaned down, her gaze more solemn than ever before, "You must understand that forcibly perceiving the internal structure of an object, especially a living one, places an enormous strain on your mind."

If things get out of control, the consequences could be far more severe than a typical failed transformation… Where did you get that inspiration?

“It’s some…home notes, Professor,” Vera answered vaguely, half-truthfully. “I stumbled upon some notes about different approaches to Transfiguration and tried them out myself.”

Although she lied, this transformation was not achieved overnight; it was the result of her slowly accumulating experience during the past summer vacation while perceiving and simulating that ancient being far beyond her comprehension.

During that period, she focused more on offensive and defensive practice with Kreacher. It was only today, inspired by McGonagall's lecture, that she was able to truly put this idea into practice.

McGonagall sighed silently: "Self-taught individuals are most prone to going astray, especially when faced with such a profound field."

Miss Blake, I'm surprised you've reached this level at your age, but you must promise me that you won't attempt this dangerous technique without sufficient confidence and guidance.

Transfiguration is a precise and demanding form of magic, not child's play.

Vera lowered her eyes and asked softly, "Professor, do you think this is... the wrong way?"

“No,” Professor McGonagall shook her head firmly, “It’s not a mistake, it’s just another, more difficult, and less traveled path.”

It may not be suitable for teaching, but for you personally, it could be a path to a higher level.

She straightened up and pondered for a moment: "I won't encourage all students to try this method in class, because for most people, the standard spell is safer and more reliable, but..."

Professor McGonagall's gaze fell on Vera again: "You can come to my office every Wednesday evening after eight o'clock."

Vera paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up: "Yes! Thank you, Professor McGonagall!"

For her, gaining Professor McGonagall's approval and the promise of potential mentorship was far more important than academic credit.

“Now, let’s go eat.” Professor McGonagall’s expression softened, and she waved her hand. “Don’t keep your friends waiting too long; they look like they’re about to break down the classroom door.”

Vera turned her head to look at the classroom door and, sure enough, saw two heads flash past through the glass door.

She couldn't help but chuckle, pushing her wheelchair forward: "Goodbye, Professor."

Goodbye, Miss Black.

As Vera walked out of the classroom, Harley and Hermione immediately surrounded her.

"Are you alright?" Harley asked first.

“Of course,” Vera couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t forget, the professor just gave me an extra twenty points in class.”

That makes sense, Harley realized, and then she felt relieved.

Hermione, however, stood to the side with her arms crossed, looking like she had seen it all before, and said, "Harley, have you noticed that this plot seems to have happened last year as well?"

It would have been better if she hadn't brought it up, because once she did, not only did Vera feel a little guilty, but even Harley remembered it.

“You mean,” Harley snapped out of her reverie, looking at her seriously, “Professor McGonagall has a habit of having a private conversation with the class’s best Transfiguration student at the beginning of each school year?”

Vera hesitated for a long time, unsure how to explain herself, and could only manage a forced smile as she said, "Perhaps Professor McGonagall, as the dean, is simply concerned about me?"

"That makes sense!" Harley exclaimed, looking enlightened once again.

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, feeling a bit helpless at how easily Vera could be fooled. She pushed Vera's wheelchair and said, "Let's go to the Great Hall. We have classes this afternoon."

Chapter Six: Vera's Birthday (6k Bounty)

In the afternoon, many students will be taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which they are all looking forward to.

Although Vera hadn't had high hopes for the class from the start, the first lesson was indeed disappointing.

When Lockhart, dressed in a flamboyant lilac robe, strolled into the classroom like a peacock spreading its tail feathers, a burst of suppressed whispers and a few low gasps instantly filled the room.

The voices behind him mainly came from some female classmates who were captivated by his appearance.

To be fair, Lockhart looks much more handsome in this movie than in the film, and his smile is quite infectious, so it's normal that he can attract a lot of female fans.

But after realizing his foolish nature, Vera always felt that when he smiled, he was just grinning like an idiot.

In short, given that everything is based on strength, she only found this person even more ridiculous.

He walked to the podium, flashing his signature white teeth, and loudly listed the honors he had received, and then…

Each student present was given a test paper.

The exam paper was filled with all sorts of questions about him, from "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?" to "What does he consider his greatest achievement?"

The entire three-page paper was almost entirely filled with these kinds of extremely narcissistic questions.

The classroom was deathly silent. Harley stared at the test paper with an expression as if she had swallowed a slug whole.

Hermione, on the other hand, wrote very quickly, the quill scratching across the parchment, her face flushed.

Vera looked at the test paper, remained silent for a few seconds, and then began to answer the questions with a blank expression, even though she herself did not know what she had written.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the test papers and looked through them in front of the whole class.

"Tsk tsk, almost no one remembers that my favorite color is lilac, which I mentioned in 'A Year with the Tibetan Yeti'."

He flipped through the papers, shaking his head as he went. Suddenly, he frowned, pulled one out from the pile, and asked, "Miss Vera Black, you wrote that my greatest achievement is..."

He paused, noticing the expressions on the students' faces, before hesitantly reading out: "Successfully turned Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class into a fan meeting?"

A few suppressed giggles erupted in the classroom, especially from the Gryffindor boys, whose shoulders were shaking with laughter.

Lockhart quickly adjusted his expression, trying to cover up his embarrassment with a brighter smile: "Oh! Very humorous! Miss Black clearly has... unique insights."

He tried to steer the conversation back to his "glorious achievements," but Harley, who had already had enough, spoke up from below: "Professor, why don't you read out Vera's other answers?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet classroom, carrying an obvious hint of mockery.

Lockhart's smile froze completely. He glanced quickly at Vera's test paper, his lips twitching slightly. Almost every answer on it was filled with similar, veiled sarcasm.

For example, his secret ambition was described as "to hide the secret he most wanted to conceal."

Lockhart's smile froze on his face for a moment. He even glanced subconsciously at the girl next to Harley, who hadn't said a word the entire time.

Vera simply looked back at him calmly, her dark eyes almost devoid of emotion, as if the test paper that had just been so provocative was not hers at all.

This silent composure made Lockhart inexplicably feel a little guilty, but he absolutely could not lose his composure in the very first lesson.

"Ha!" He chuckled dryly, stuffing Vera's test paper into the bottom of the stack of papers. "It seems Miss Black has prepared quite thoroughly, full of... um... critical thinking! Very good! Five points added to Gryffindor!"

He abruptly changed the subject, clapping his hands: "Alright, the test is over! Now, let's move on to the practical part—to face a little challenge!"

As he spoke, he bent down and pulled a large cage covered with a cloth from behind the podium, placing it on the table.

“Now, you are about to face the most evil thing in the magical world! But as long as I am here, you will not be harmed.”

As expected of a bestselling author, he piqued the curiosity of many people with just a few words.

Harry couldn't help but peek out from behind a pile of books, wanting to get a good look at the cage, while Hermione's eyes lit up.

Lockhart placed a hand on the cover, Dean and Seamus stopped laughing, and Neville in the front row shrank back.

“I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart said in a low voice, “that will enrage them!”

Under the watchful eyes of the entire class, he suddenly ripped off the cover—

The cage was crammed with hundreds of tiny elves, each only eight inches tall, with bluish-gray skin and pointed faces, emitting piercing screams and noisy chatter.

They are Cornish elves.

“That’s it?” Ron blurted out, his voice filled with disbelief and disappointment.

The classroom erupted in laughter, and the tense atmosphere vanished instantly.

Lockhart looked a little embarrassed, but he forced a smile: "Don't be fooled by their appearance! These little elves are very troublesome and very cunning!"

He shouted, then opened the cage door and released all the little sprites inside at once.

In an instant, the classroom was in complete chaos.

The elves flew around like rockets, accompanied by ear-piercing squeaking laughter.

They grabbed ink bottles and splashed them on the walls, tore books and papers to shreds, ripped down curtains, and even picked up Neville and hung him on the ceiling chandelier!

“Come, come, gather them together, gather them together, they’re just little sprites…” Lockhart was still trying to maintain order, waving his wand, “Peschipxie Pestnomi!”

Completely ineffective.

Even a little elf snatched his wand and threw it out the window. Lockhart was so frightened that he shrank back behind the podium.

“What a disaster!” Hermione screamed, waving her wand as she tried to fend off several elves that were trying to pull her hair.

Her obstacle spell had some effect, but it was clearly insufficient against such a large number of fast-moving troublemakers.

Harley, Ron, Seamus, and the others also drew their wands, but their spells either missed or were dodged by the nimble sprites, which only escalated the chaos in the classroom.

Vera frowned, quickly assessing the situation.