When the knock came at the door, Andrew was in the middle of a headache-inducing study session.
Self-learning Latin without proper textbooks was enough to make anyone weep, but it was necessary—even if the language was "dead," it was still useful.
"I'm coming," he called, capping his pen and standing up to open the door—he always locked it from the inside, and that habit had been quietly allowed.
"Good morning, Mrs. Camille," he greeted the two figures at the door (she insisted all students call her Mrs. Camille, not Headmistress), and ushered them inside. "And this is?"
"This is Ms. McGonagall. She's here to talk to you about attending their school, a place called Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
Andrew froze for a moment—that name sounded oddly familiar.
"Yes, Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall nodded, then turned to Mrs. Camille. "Excuse me, Mrs. Camille, could I speak to him alone for a moment?"
During this lull, Andrew's mind finally connected the dots: Hogwarts—a school of magic, a school specifically for wizards. He'd even played a game called Hogwarts Legacy. Honestly, it wasn't bad.
Beyond that, he only knew the general storyline from movie summaries. Though he'd considered reading the original books, he could never find the time. The story was long, and unlike web novels, it required immersive reading—time-consuming and dense.
With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Andrew took the chance to size up Professor McGonagall, who was still talking with Mrs. Camille.
"She doesn't look exactly like in the films, but the overall demeanor... it fits."
"So, this so-called telekinesis of mine… it's actually magic?"
"Good news: training magic means I can benefit from the knowledge of those before me, reducing trial and error. Bad news: my 'unique power' just became a mass-market product."
"But none of that matters. What I need to do is act like I know nothing and go along with this… because I shouldn't have any way of knowing what Hogwarts even is."
By the time he had calmed and recalibrated his mental state, Professor McGonagall had already persuaded Mrs. Camille to leave and turned her attention to Andrew. She drew her wand and gave it a slight tap—
A nearby chair instantly transformed into a goat, which calmly pulled a piece of paper off the table and began to munch on it.
But the surprised reaction McGonagall expected never came. After a brief pause, Andrew smacked the goat's head and quickly snatched back the half-finished manuscript.
"Your power is certainly impressive," Andrew said with a half-wry smile, "but I don't think my afternoon's writing needed to be the proof of it."
Fortunately, the page had only been about language studies. If it had been something else, it would've been safely tucked away already.
He shoved the paper farther back on the desk, and with his other hand held the goat still. "That was amazing. What is this, exactly? Wait—more precisely, what's it called? Telekinesis? Psychic power? Inner energy? Magic? Source energy? Or something else entirely?"
Before McGonagall could answer, he looked at the goat again and quickly added, his voice low but curious, "I've read a lot of fantasy books. They all have different names for extraordinary powers. So I'm pretty open-minded—especially since I seem to have one myself."
Such rapid-fire questioning during a first meeting was deeply impolite. Normally, it's better to listen, to offer simple feedback like "Ah," "I see," "Ohh," or "Interesting" to keep the conversation going smoothly.
But Andrew had to do this. He needed the stream of questions to buy time to fully compose himself.
"Ah, I'm sorry," Andrew continued, pretending to be slightly flustered but excited. "I guess I got a bit carried away and asked too much."
"It's quite alright. That's perfectly natural," Professor McGonagall said, nodding. "Hogwarts—the school you'll be attending—is a school of magic. You'll be learning magic alongside many other children your age."
"A school for learning magic?" Andrew didn't need to fake his excitement now. "That's amazing! But… can I afford it?"
"No need to worry—Hogwarts doesn't charge tuition."
That question caught McGonagall slightly off guard, but only slightly.
"What about books, housing, food, uniforms?" Andrew looked genuinely concerned, because he was. "Sorry, ma'am, maybe I'm asking too much… but I might not be able to afford all that."
"And also—what country is the school in? What currency do you use? What's the exchange rate? Is it a boarding school? Are there higher education pathways afterward?"
These weren't just a cover anymore—they were real, sincere questions. And sincerity is the best disguise.
"This child… maybe he'd be useful in the office…"
McGonagall wasn't the least bit offended.
She saw in Andrew the makings of an intern—a very competent one. Given Dumbledore's neglect of administrative duties, most of the school's paperwork fell to her. The chaos required reliable help.
At Hogwarts, most students capable of assisting at this level were in their fifth year, but she couldn't ask them to work during their OWLs. Sixth and seventh-years often had external internships already, and if they remained after graduation, they became professors—not someone she could keep running errands.
An intern starting from first year who was polite, thoughtful, and in need of assistance pay?
She was delighted to answer his questions.
Then, unexpectedly, Andrew followed up with even more:
"That's wonderful… but Professor, I'm really curious about the magic you just used. That goat—did the chair entirely become a goat? Was it a permanent transformation? Temporary? Conditional? If a limb is separated during transformation, does it revert to the original form or remain altered?"
"I felt temperature and blood flow—was that all simulated, or does the transformation create real biology? What happens to heart rate and blood flow during movement?"
"And once the transformation is reversed, where does the consumed material go? Is it stored inside the original object, does it drop out, or does it vanish completely?"
Forget the intern idea…
Even Britain's second-best Transfiguration professor had second thoughts after hearing that barrage of questions.
"You'll need to learn the basics of Transfiguration first," she said patiently, "and read a significant amount of theory before asking questions like those."
"In magic, the most dangerous thing isn't a lack of imagination—it's letting curiosity outpace your control. Transfiguration accidents are the most common type of magical mishap."
"Come on. I'll take you to Diagon Alley. We can talk more on the way. You've got a lot of questions, but I'll try to answer them in a way you'll understand. But most importantly, you must remember one thing."
Her expression turned serious.
"When it comes to magic, experimenting with the unknown is extremely dangerous. Nothing in magic is guaranteed. And diving into too many unknowns at once—that is absolutely forbidden."