The next morning after Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall approached Harry as he was gathering his books.
"Mr. Potter," she said crisply but kindly, "your handling of today's spellwork was... impressive. I would like to invite you to join the Transfiguration Club."
Harry blinked in surprise but nodded politely. "I'd be honored, Professor."
A few of his friends noticed the conversation. As Harry returned to them, Neville tilted his head curiously. "What did Professor McGonagall want?"
Harry didn't bother hiding it. "She invited me to join her Transfiguration Club."
Neville's jaw dropped slightly. Hermione, however, looked utterly shocked. "But—but you have to be at least a second-year to join!" she exclaimed. "And even then, Professor only invites the best!"
Harry just smiled modestly. Hermione huffed slightly, a complicated tangle of happiness and jealousy flickering over her face.
Later at noon, Harry made his way to the fifth floor, searching for Room 16, the designated club meeting place. But something was wrong—there was a Room 15 and a Room 17... but no Room 16. Only a large portrait between them depicting a lavish feast being conjured with magic.
Harry frowned. According to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, food couldn't be created from nothing. This painting was suspicious.
Acting on instinct, Harry reached out and touched one of the dishes in the painting. Immediately, a hidden handle shimmered into existence. Gripping it, Harry pulled the painting aside like a hidden door.
Behind it was a warmly lit room already bustling with a handful of older students from various Houses. Some were chatting, others practicing minor transfigurations. A few chairs were conspicuously missing.
Penelope Clearwater, a sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect, spotted him and smiled warmly. "Oh, you found the entrance quickly! Welcome to the Transfiguration Club!"
Harry gave a polite nod. "Thanks."
He looked around, noticing the arrangement of chairs and quickly counting them. "It seems there are fifteen members, judging from the number of chairs."
Penelope chuckled. "Sixteen, actually. It's tradition—new members must transfigure their own chair when they arrive."
Harry grinned, finding the idea clever. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a simple piece of parchment. Concentrating carefully, he waved his wand and muttered a spell. The paper shimmered and transformed into a sturdy, comfortable ergonomic chair, shaped perfectly for long hours of study and practice.
Setting it down proudly, Harry sat and relaxed into it as if he'd been there forever. Penelope, visibly impressed, leaned over with a friendly smile. "Quick, precise, and elegant. You're going to fit right in."
As the room gradually filled with older students, Harry found himself engaged in easy conversation with Penelope about the finer points of transfiguration, discussing theories and sharing small insights while they waited for Professor McGonagall to officially begin the club session.
To be continued...