"The magic costs are too high, and such an item loses all value. Creating even a small volume of that alloy would exhaust a wizard incredibly. Shaping it into jewelry makes no sense due to the low worth of such an alloy—it'd only be good for remelting and purification. And that's another expense. It's far more effective to earn money with a lousy part-time job. The same applies to gold, except the dispersal of magic in gold is exponentially higher than in silver, making it nearly impossible to achieve even a five-twenty-five sample."
"I don't understand anything—what language is he even speaking?" complained the red-haired Weasley, prompting laughter from the boys and a mix of embarrassment and indignation from Hermione over her friend.
McGonagall's stern gaze quelled the bursts of mirth in the classroom.
"Precious stones?"
"They're actually magical objects, albeit to an incredibly minute degree. Attempting Transfiguration only turns them into carbon, quartz, or other dust, and the Transfiguration instantly collapses, reducing the original object to dust as well."
"Time?" the professor asked succinctly.
"Time isn't a material object. It's more a subjective perception of the rate of change in a substance's state. It has little to do with Transfiguration, come to that."
"That's simply splendid, Mr. Granger," McGonagall said with a delighted smile, clapping her hands in a delicate, girlish manner. "Twenty—no, thirty points to Hufflepuff. Mr. Granger…"
"Yes?"
"I think I can give you a pass for all the material covered. You managed the practical part, and your understanding of Transfiguration fundamentals is beyond doubt."
"Thank you, Professor."
The rest of the lesson passed somewhat detachedly—we practiced another Transfiguration spell for everyone, though it was my first from the curriculum. Nothing special.
After Transfiguration, we—the entire crowd of third-years—headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Now it's all together," Justin shook his head sadly, wedging himself between Ernie and me. "And I'm so used to working with just the crows or the vultures."
"Well, I don't know," I shrugged. "I like everything the way it is."
I accidentally glanced at Malfoy and his crew. It was amusing to see him pontificating importantly, two hulks acting like golems trudging beside him, an unfamiliar brown-haired boy listening neutrally, and a rather cute brunette with a bob haircut nodding and agreeing, occasionally slipping in a few phrases. It was intriguing how this brunette chose her words and timing—an experienced elf could sense a whiff of intrigue and opinion manipulation, though a teenager might take it at face value, especially someone as proud as Malfoy.
On the other hand, I also noticed Hermione and her friends. The red-haired Weasley was saying something about her being the smartest, Potter was nodding, and Hermione was poring over the schedule.
"It's good that everyone now has classes together," I heard her say.
"Classes?" Weasley didn't follow. "I'm talking about one thing, and she's on about classes."
"Why?" Potter didn't share his friend's indignation.
"The schedule's shifted slightly, and I can attend all the extra classes without rushing."
"Ooh, it's all clear," the redhead waved it off.
We stood in a crowd outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom doors, waiting. We were waiting for the professor of this subject to finally arrive, and judging by the students' murmurs and guesses, Defense professors here change every year.
"…did you talk to him?" Potter's voice cut through the quiet hubbub of the crowd.
"No, I haven't had time yet," Hermione replied.
"Then go. You never know—they might say something else…"
Looking toward the Gryffindors, I saw Hermione nod and walk briskly toward me, but she didn't make it in time.
"Students, good day," an adult male voice rang out, and we all turned our attention to a blond-haired man approaching in patched, not particularly new, but clearly practical clothes and a robe. "Come in."
Professor Lupin—that was the name of this odd and faintly suspicious man—led us into the classroom, well-lit by sunlight streaming through high windows with colorless stained glass. Now, all the benches and desks were pushed back against the stone wall, which was adorned with posters featuring drawings of creatures, tables, and instructions—mostly creatures.
"You can put your textbooks away," the professor said cheerfully, walking to a wardrobe and turning to us. "Today we have a practical lesson—leave only your wands. I initially planned to hold the lesson here and started preparing the classroom, which is why the desks are moved. But I was offered a better place. Follow me."
Many opted to leave their things here, but some—including me—simply packed everything back into their bags. Following Lupin, we left the classroom and moved in a disorderly crowd through the corridors. In one of them, the professor guided us through an obviously secret passage, and we emerged in another corridor, clearly in a different tower. Ten meters later, we stood before the large doors of the staff room.
"Well, here we are—come in."
The staff room boasted large windows and good lighting, with wood paneling on the walls and antique but well-maintained furniture—various armchairs, sofas, and tables—creating a cozy atmosphere. All that was missing to complete the picture were a couple of antique cabinets with ancient tomes and some magical gadgets; then it'd be immediately obvious that wizards gathered here.
Professor Snape was seated in one of those armchairs near the fireplace. Upon seeing us, he grinned slyly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. Lupin entered last and moved to close the door, but Snape rose from the sofa, managing even in that gesture to dramatically sweep his black robe over his black attire. Batman, no less! Hmm, who's Batman, and why do I associate Snape with him?
"Who's Batman?" I asked Justin.
"Pfft…" The boy choked, covering his mouth.
Justin glanced at Snape, then at me, and back at Snape, his puzzled gaze lingering.
"And indeed…"
"So who is he?"
"I'll tell you later."
While we whispered quietly, Snape had already approached the not-so-friendly-looking Lupin. No, there was no malice in the new professor—just wariness and feigned goodwill.
"Wait, Lupin—I think I'll go. This won't be a pleasant sight."
Snape turned at the door.