Another Iron in the Fire

The events of the 31st of October somehow managed to largely pass unnoticed despite the standard overwhelming power of Hogwart's rumor mill. Clearly, Dumbledore had a hand in keeping Potter's nature as a Parselmouth secret, and even more spectacularly, neither Ron Weasley nor Hermione Granger had let it slip in the inconspicuous way that characterized the whispers of 11 years old children.

I hadn't seen a need to publicize the thing, especially since I'd eventually figure out a way for Potter to teach me how to speak with snakes. If nothing else, it'd be fantastic to kill the basilisk before Lucius Malfoy had a chance of making a mess during my O.W.L. year.

Realizing that I was thinking in circles and that I had stopped being productive a few minutes before, I sighed tiredly and I closed the last book that I had set myself to study, stretching backward from my place on the comfortable floor, my hands rubbing roughly at my face and trying to alleviate the pressure on my eyes by drawing small circles with my fingers just above my eyelids.

The information about Parseltongue was as obscure and vague as one would expect: even the books that the Room of Requirement managed to provide utterly failed to describe it in a clear way: yes, it allowed the user to command snakes, yes, it was said to be a trait inherent of Salazar's line, and... full stop. For all of its incredible magic, the RoR could provide only things present in the castle, or at least copies of those. There is no book containing understandable, comprehensive, and correct knowledge.

While I breathed slowly, I tried to become consciously aware of the faintest smell, of the meanest sound: parchment and old leather, ink, and candles. I identified each of those elements with my nose, while my ears strained to pick up the flickering of the countless candles that kept the current configuration of the Room of Requirement lit.

Wizards are too prone to speculation without a solid theoretical base. That was an old truth, and once that never ceased to vex me.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with the familiar sight of a floor hidden under a thick, soft light blue carpet and a circular stone room with the walls hidden by tall bookshelves. The only place that lacked them was the section covered instead of a leaded glass window that ran from the floor up to the ceiling, allowing me a breathtaking view of the Black Lake and one slice of Forbidden Forest, while the ceiling itself was almost hidden by countless floating candles that warred with the natural light entering from the window.

"It's not like the Scientific Method can be applied to Magic." I groaned in half-despair, still sitting on the floor: that was the major hurdle that I had come to realize and accept during my extracurricular studies.

I had started to abuse the Room of Requirement as soon as I had entered in possession of the Marauder's Map, back in my first year: it wouldn't do for anyone to follow me and discover that place since that might have curtailed the number of hours I would otherwise have been free to spend there myself. For the longest time, I had simply asked for a place where I could learn about this or that topic, and the Room had delivered with a simple desk and stacks of books.

I need a place where I can learn to the best of my ability. That had been the request that utterly changed my approach to studying: since the beginning of my second year, I had, in fact, enjoyed countless hours sitting on the strange carpet under me, books and parchment littering around me just enough to allow me to stretch constantly without interrupting my focused state.

'Work smarter, not harder' was an approach that could be followed only until a certain point as a muggle, but with magic... oh, that was a wholly different thing: the Room was suited to allow for my specific person the maximum possible result from the smallest of my efforts, and having a place where I could focus uniquely on knowledge, with no distractions or dangers of any kind, had propelled my already inquisitive mind to new heights.

Of course, that didn't mean that wrapping my head around the headaches turned into books didn't require any effort on my part: besides the more institutionalized subjects, such as Charms, Transfiguration and so on, each magical topic didn't have a frame for reference of any kind.

I shifted to a cross-legged position and twisted a bit from my left to my right, luxuriating in the feeling of muscles stretching and the occasional 'pop' of my spine: "It is a wonder that wizard-kind managed to organize a government."

When talking about Math, everyone knew it went in levels, from the simple additions to matrices, to basic algebra, to study of functions, and so on. The point being that each topic was built from a previous, less complex one. Charms weren't structured in that way: you affected reality in increasingly complex ways, but one didn't need to learn 'Wingardium Leviosa' to correctly perform the Summoning Charm, just as someone could theoretically learn how to obtain the derivative of a function without knowing anything about its behavior for any 'x' approaching infinity.

I slowly rose to my feet while my eyes turned towards the landscape I could witness from the floor to ceiling window, and I sighed again, trying to accept what I had suspected for a while.

In terms that any muggle could relate to, studying the Patronus Charm was like learning to sing a single tune at a very specific pitch, while Charms as a whole were about writing music sheets. The latter could give some measure of insight into the first, but ultimately it wasn't necessary.

Classical physics was all right, as a subject, it behaved more or less like Math: each concept building off another, often a simpler one. A dedicated student, however, could learn about quantum physics with no idea whatsoever about the balancing point of a crane, even if the latter was infinitely simpler than the first. Just like Transfiguration.

I dragged my hands into my hair, pressing my fingers into my scalp almost painfully while I slowly turned where I stood, my eyes returning to the circle of scattered books and pieces of parchment surrounding me.

Transfiguration was more or less the same, at least conceptually: from inanimate object to inanimate object, from animal to object, from object to animal, from animal to animal, and then human transfiguration (each containing several growing degrees of difficulty, of course). Almost out of nowhere, just like quantum physics, Animation, Conjuration, and Vanishing came into being.

I hadn't attempted yet with Conjuration and Vanishing, preferring the much more interesting 'Purpofero', that was the foundation upon which any Animation was built. Animating an object wasn't like forcing a Pineapple to dance, at all: the latter was a precise instruction, the first gave a set task, an objective that the Animated object would set out to do.

Discarding the crippling of Latin that would require the incantation to be Propositum Fero, I thought to myself while I fished my wand out of my pocket, and not thinking too much about the unholy mixture of the English word 'Purpose' with Fero, that is Latin for 'I bring', I still cannot figure out how Parseltongue works.

"But the purpose of my transfigured snake was clear." I frowned, my mind returning to the behavior of the black and green reptile while I idly twirled my wand, "Why did it listen to Potter? Besides the fact that the kid had no idea about it, why a simple word was enough to override the task I gave it?"

Oh, maybe it was overreaching on my part, to try and figure out something as obscure as a Parselmouth's talent after seeing it only once, but as I had realized, even the most complex piece of magic could be learned without a base made of simpler things: and the existence of a thousand years old basilisk under the school made me quite eager to figure it out. Maybe I should just intercept Riddle's diary.

Shaking my head a bit, I returned my attention to the here and now, raising my wand while I focused, forcing my mind's wish upon reality: with a single, encompassing swish, the scattered notes I had taken slid one over another before a single thread bound them.

Of course, there was a link between Conjuration and 'Turning a Beetle into a Button', but ultimately that was utterly meaningless when it came to performing said pieces of magic. A scholar could discover it, McGonagall maybe thought it obvious, but in my previous life, I had known a bit about Math, and I found the utter lack of coherence in any subject utterly bizarre.

For the standard subjects, the Ministry had a syllabus one could refer to, but any niche topic of magic stood on its own. A transfiguration was completely apart from a charm: there was no relation between the two, at all. It wasn't the same distance present between Math and Physics, where the latter was essentially the first applied to the direct study of reality.

An upwards swing of my wand had the books return to their places on the shelves, while a jab summoned to me a roll of parchment that I quickly unfolded, while a resigned frown appeared on my face. After crossing out another bunch of titles on the endless list provided by the Room of Requirement, I pocketed the register and tucked my bound notes into the cover of a book about Oneiromancy.

Transfiguration and Charms weren't like water and oil: it was more correct to say that the first was about painting and the latter about engineering, but even that comparison would fall short. After all, chemical engineering could be applied to the paints one could use for a portrait. And that same distance was present between each Subject, barring the clear flora&fauna interaction present between Magical Plants and Creatures.

I briefly considered adding new curses to the cover meant to avoid other people poking their nose into my research, but realizing the time, I simply decided to tuck them my leather bag, the spells on the book cover already shimmering to life and concealing what was written inside.

As I turned towards the exit that was just now springing into existence, I briefly checked the Marauder's Map, more out of habit than anything else, and I spotted Peter Pettigrew in the Gryffindor Common Room. I'll have to deal with that as well: should I wait until Sirius escapes?

I was a capable wizard, my interaction with the troll had proven that much. Even if I really should have simply kidnapped Granger instead of talking to her. But taking action had a spectacular chance of backfiring, so I simply shook my head, and bid the recently appeared door to open into the first-floor corridor, where there was nobody to spot my sudden appearance.

While I walked, I returned to my usual musings about magic, letting the stream of consciousness wash over me with a familiar relief.

For all of my studies supported by the fantastic tool that was the RoR, I had only figured out how Magic didn't work as. One of the side purposes I had, was to find a way to study less while learning more. But all those considerations didn't actually help me with one of the topics that I had started to research as soon as I could when I was eleven: Rebirth. How could I not investigate what brought me here?

With a last fortifying breath, I returned to the castle proper, walking towards my target: I had an appointment to attend to after al, and it wouldn't do to be late.

After a brief walk during which I crossed a gaggle of students, I reached my destination, and knocked on the tall double doors that sported a bass relief of griffins tearing through the skies.

Before I could start wondering if the threshold was transfigured or actually the product of a more mundane effort, the door swung inward, and taking it as the silent command it was, I walked inside.

The office of Minerva McGonagall was a small rectangular study located off of the first-floor corridor, to the right of a staircase ascending directly to the third-floor. A single, imposing desk dominated the whole space, illuminated by tall, leaded windows overlooking the Training Grounds and the Quidditch pitch, while against the walls on either side of the room there were tall shelves filled to the brim with books facing various topics which were undoubtedly related, to a degree, with the subject of Transfiguration.

On the left, there was a large, lit fireplace, with a couple of armchairs and a small couch facing it: all in all, it was a cozy working space, even if the ever-stern McGonagall worked against the warm atmosphere. A couple of empty portraits were the only other elements to decorate the room.

"Good evening, professor." I saluted her as I walked in, slowly subduing my thoughts about 'rebirth' and my other less than legal pursuits: I had a clear objective by waling in the lioness' den, and it wouldn't do to miss that window of opportunity due to a lack of focus.

"Welcome Mr. Diggory, have a seat." the Transfiguration professor replied with a brief nod, "Filius anticipated me the reason you requested this meeting for, but I'm not sure this would be a good endeavor for you to face."

Well, she likes to cut to the chase, doesn't she? I quickly walked up to her desk and sat in a chair placed in front of it: "Aren't my skill up to the task?"

"It's not a mere matter of skill." McGonagall pursed her lips lightly, studying me briefly while I considered her words.

I consciously blinked a couple of times, keeping my eyes closed a fraction of a second more than strictly needed before replying: "If I don't know what makes you think I shouldn't bother with trying to become an Animagus, I don't know which problem I have to address."

The eyebrows of the professor climbed a bit towards her hairline, her shoulders shuffling while she sought the words to express her doubts: "You are a very capable young wizard, your practical work in most of your subjects is far above average, and it has been so for years, but what concerns me is your work ethic."

A short burst of laughter bubbled up from within before I could reign it in. What do you know of my work ethic? In this life, I've been studying everything interesting since I had enough control over my movements, trying to make sense out of the sheer madness that is magic.

"I don't find this amusing in the least, Mr. Diggory." a frown replaced her raised eyebrows while she inched forward on her seat, "Your written work shows a constant lack of dedication, to the point that you often don't reach the minimum length required."

"Professor, with all due respect," I hunched forward on my own, not bothering with holding back my smile, "the written work requires me to explain concepts so mind-numbingly simple that they don't deserve any more of my effort: you'll have noticed that, while brief to the point of being curt, my essays are never wrong, per se."

She started to reply only for me to open my hands, almost imploringly asking for her to listen: "I can work hard, professor, I do work hard. Constantly, I keep studying anything that catches my fancy: the Animagus transformation is fascinating. Does your animal form match your Patronus? If so, why? Why can we turn in a single animal, why not three?"

I felt myself becoming animated as I genuinely talked about the subject that I favored among the ones taught at Hogwarts, but I didn't bother hiding it, if there was someone that should get it, that should get me, at least when it came to Transfiguration... well, who if not McGonagall? "Transfiguration is utterly insane, Charms are paltry tricks in comparison."

Even if the Patronus, the Fidelius, and the Protean sound rather spectacular and impossible to replicate with mere transfiguration. I didn't voice the thought that came along my defense of Transfiguration, which to be honest, was the coolest thing actually taught at Hogwarts: "Professor, your subject reshapes reality to your will, and it is by far the most extraordinary thing I've ever witnessed!" Well, that's an outright lie.

Flattery wasn't something that could win over someone as stern and unyielding as Minerva McGonagall, and I wasn't really one for brow-nosing anyway, but complimenting Transfiguration? That was a wholly different thing.

"I hadn't known you held my subject in such regard, Mr. Diggory." the eyebrows of the stern Scottish witch rose a bit before a small smile took a place over her lips, "But it is always gratifying to see a student so taken with a topic, nevermind an entire branch of magic... let's put your dedication to the test, then, shall we?"

"A test?" I asked, not bothering with hiding my curiosity, walking inside her office, I hadn't expected to be immediately turned into an animal, but then again, neither I had thought she'd be unwilling to teach me. It's what she is at Hogwarts for, isn't it? Teaching. "What should I do?"

"I'd like you to turn your left thumb into steel." her request came with an undisguised smile, one that looked almost predatory for an instant, before she was once more the impassible and stern Minerva McGonagall we all knew and more or less loved, "The incantation is 'homoscùlpo', and the wand movement consists of a jab where the transfiguration begins, followed by you trailing the tip of the wand until the end of the change."

I blinked a couple of times while I reigned in my surprise: what the hell was that? Living to not living? On Myself? Is she mad? I studied the professor then, I looked at her like I would an arithmantic equation, trying to figure out what the hell was she about. From beginning to the end, however, McGonagall was utterly unreadable, there was no hidden glint of amusement in her eyes, nor eager hunching of her shoulders.

I had half a dozen excuses in mind to not do what she just asked me to: with magical healing, regrowing a finger was quite possible, but I didn't care much for the experience, and transfiguring myself had never been a project I felt comfortable with. When you messed out a curse or an enchanting over something, at the worst you destroyed the object in question, the same when transfiguring animals.

But I had only ten fingers, and I loved them all equally. "Are you sure, professor?"

"Quite." the Scottish witch pursed her lips together, "And I'll thank you to not question my indications, Mr. Diggory, if you hope to learn from me, I'll require some more trust."

I grimaced at the almost audible 'crack' of the whip hidden in her words. "I guess you'll undo whatever mess I manage to bring forth." I exhaled, bringing out my wand while I threw away my reasonable objections. Worst that could happen, I don't learn how to be an Animagus, then it comes temporarily losing a limb, followed by the optimal result of this being all a big joke and McGonagall suddenly agreeing to my request.

I dared one last glance at the stern professor, only to see her staring impassibly back at me. Only then I fully concealed the grimace that had almost manifested on my face, and focused on my task, the instructions clear in my mind while I pictured the effect I wished to accomplish.

What kind of steel? There were loads, and I wasn't really an expert, but in the end, I needed to impress the witch in front of me: Damascus it is.

I erased the rest of the world from my senses, from the feel of my ass on the chair to the white noises that never truly abandoned the crowded castle: there was only me, my wand, and my finger. No, my target.

I jabbed my wand over the top of my thumb, and started to drag it towards my knuckle: "Homosculpo."

The incantation left my lips heavily, deliberately, while my wand once again changed the world around me, and I could feel... something, a brief shimmer interposing itself between my eyes and my finger, stopping me from observing the change I had caused.

"Only your fingernail, Mr. Diggory?" there wasn't disappointment in McGonagall's voice, even if she seemed... annoyed?

The voice of the witch brought me back from my brief reverie, my wand freeing the field so that I could see the result of my magic: my thumb was fine, and I wiggled it with no issue. However, the only thing metallic about me was my fingernail, as the professor had so correctly observed: steel had taken the place of the keratin, but it sported a rather fabulously smoky, ripple pattern that reflected the light oddly. I even fancied that the edge of my nail had some sharpness to it.

How could McGonagall be disappointed by this? I raised my eyes to meet hers, Given that it was my first attempt, I dare say it is quite extraordinary. "Well, the Damascus pattern is beautiful at least, isn't it?" I grinned at the Scottish witch, ready to annoy the life out of her for some months, enough for her to give in to exasperation and teach me even if I failed her test.

"At least, Mr. Diggory," she corrected me with a pointed glare, "I know that you haven't tried human transfiguration before."

"Should I have?" I asked, not quite able to read her, "I mean, I've been studying ahead, but messing with my own body sounded like a spectacularly bad idea."

"You most certainly shouldn't have." McGonagall sniffed disdainfully, "If you succeeded on your first attempt, I would have banished you from my classes altogether, since I expressly forbid experimentation, never mind on yourself or worse, fellow students."

Fuck. I paled just for an instant, my innate wit carrying me while I tried to figure out what I would have done without the honestly understandable explanations of the witch: "How positively Slytherin of you, professor." even blind, one could hear the grin in my voice.

While I was busy freaking out, she jabbed her own wand at me, and from one moment to the next, with no feeling whatsoever accompanying it, my fingernail returned normal.

"However, I've seen that snake of yours, and it was remarkable despite your choice of an animal, well beyond what someone of your age should be able to realize." she spoke over my comment, her eyes flashing disdainfully for an instant while she lifted a rolled-up parchment from one of her drawers: "This is a list of books I expect you to study and understand before we talk again of the possibility of me watching over you as you embark in the quest that is becoming an Animagus. If in the next couple of months you manage to work your way through them, without your marks taking a dive, then I'll accept your request, and teach you."

"To the library then!" I didn't wait around for her to change idea, the list of books,

AN

About the Lore

I know the first part is quite 'heavy': basically the MC openly states some of the Lore I've set up for this fic. What has driven me to that choice, besides the fact that I keep reading of fics where the Scientific Method works for magical research, or ones in which the SI is better than anyone else because he vaguely knows about the existence of atoms, is that I constantly spot the presence of a 'Book of Perfection' that the Room of Requirement makes avaliable, containing everything the character needs.

I mean, canon Harry Potter makes use of the Room for the DA, that's ok, but the books he uses there contain spells and whatnot: the nebulous magical theory that the likes of Dumbledore actually understand, and that Hermione occasionally obliquely hints at, aren't exactly easy to pick up.

I mean, if there was a standard theory encompassing 'Magic' it would have been a subject, don't you agree? Yet in canon, we see Harry casually perform the Patronus at 13 and utterly fail at silencing a frog.

So the point that I've tried to make is that comparing the study of magic to your regular sciences really doesn't make sense, and that as a consequence, each wizard to write a book researched his own stuff with no need for an outsider's input.

This brings us to the absence of 'Book with the spells that will make you better than everyone else because of 'yes' ': the MC is trying to figure out a lot of stuff, for many reasons, I really hoped I managed to convey his way of thinking by how I structured his thoughts and inner ramblings (that was a fucking headache, having him start to study the magic of Parseltongue because he wanted to better figure out Animation and how it ties into Rebirth).

I'm really never sure about the pacing of any of my stories, in the last year, I've tried to balance the seasoning made of characterization and lore exploration around the main course that is the progression of the plot.

In this fic, for the time being at least, the extremely interesting events revolve around Harry Potter and Voldemort, which limits the freedom I tend to enjoy with my other fics (where I straight out murder canon).

This chapter has two sections: study in the Room of Requirement, to showcase what the MC has been up to before the beginning of this story (plus some lore). The chat with McGonagall, that in a clever plot twist isn't about the lore of transfiguration but about the character of the MC (or at least how he's perceived).

How did it go?

In particular, this chapter doesn't have page interruptions: it is a constant stream of events, and in that is quite different from my standard splitting in clearly separated scenes different events. Your opinion? Were the transitions smooth, or do you prefer the clearly separated sections?