As the practical exercise officially began, Professor McGonagall instructed the students to transform a matchstick into a needle.
Devon was stunned by his own frightening talent.
He had replaced Seamus and officially earned the title of Hogwarts' "Demolition Mage."
Determinedly, he attempted to use magic to alter the structure of the matchstick. However, by injecting too much magic at once, the matchstick in his hand turned into a fireball.
It shot wildly around the classroom!
The fireball even scorched Ron's hair.
One by one, the students screamed in panic.
Professor McGonagall, quick as lightning, waved her wand. The fireball transformed into a deflated balloon and fell harmlessly to the floor.
Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.
Malfoy, meanwhile, looked on with a smirk of satisfaction. He was delighted to see Devon's slip-up.
"This Frenchman isn't good at everything, it seems~" he said loudly, ensuring Devon could hear—but not loudly enough for Professor McGonagall to notice.
Devon ignored him.
"Mr. Alexander, can you reiterate the first and second principles of Transfiguration?" Professor McGonagall asked as she walked up to him, having just handled the chaos he'd caused.
Her eyes revealed a trace of surprise that such a phenomenon had occurred.
"The first principle is caution. The second principle is to only change the structure, not the essence, Professor," Devon replied truthfully.
"Hmm, very good. Then tell me, did you adhere to the second principle just now?"
Her pointed question struck right at the core of Devon's mistake.
He frowned, reviewing his actions carefully.
He had indeed tried to alter only the structure of the match. However, the magic he used—amplified by the Zen Meditation Method—was likely far stronger than that of most young wizards.
So, following McGonagall's standard instructions to the letter had led to an overload of magical input.
That, in turn, changed the match's essence.
He wasn't yet capable of fully altering an object's fundamental nature. Instead, he had destabilized it, which caused the fireball incident.
"Professor, I think I injected too much magic. It might have altered the match's essence—or at least agitated it—causing it to combust and act out," Devon explained thoughtfully.
Professor McGonagall gave a small nod.
A glint of appreciation appeared in her eyes.
He truly had potential. His reasoning was sharp and logical.
"Exactly. That's why Transfiguration emphasizes precision. Learning to control your magic is the first step to mastering it," she said, handing him a fresh matchstick.
Devon took it and laid it gently on the table, contemplating deeply.
He attempted to gauge exactly how much magic would be needed to transfigure the match.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall began guiding him further.
"As I mentioned in class, you need only focus your mind. Students at your level have limited magic—some can't even maintain a basic Levitation Charm. But you're different, Alexander."
Her tone was serious.
"Controlling your magic is something we usually teach in second year. Today, I'll offer only simple guidance. Remember this: the amount of magic required for Transfiguration depends on the size and complexity of the object being transformed—and what you're turning it into. Grasping this principle is key to success in Transfiguration."
Devon was deeply inspired.
"Thank you, Professor," he said gratefully.
He immediately resumed examining the match and the needle. He even held them, trying to sense their textures and details.
Yet, something eluded him.
It felt like he was stuck in a bottleneck—unable to calm his mind and truly understand the essence of Transfiguration.
The chattering of nearby students distracted him even more, their voices analyzing and guessing the mechanics behind Transfiguration.
At that moment, Devon remembered something: the Zen Meditation Method.
He had used it before—on the train, and again outside the auditorium. It had helped him achieve a peaceful, focused state where outside distractions held no sway.
Could it help him now?
Devon adjusted his breathing as per the Zen Meditation instructions.
Half-closing his eyes, he began to meditate.
With each deep breath, the classroom noise faded.
It felt as though the entire world had grown silent.
His thoughts became clear.
Magic began to flow through his body, resonating subtly with the objects around him.
Soon, he entered the same serene state he had experienced outside the auditorium.
Everything around him was cloaked in a hazy mist. Only within one meter could he perceive things clearly.
This was the expanded "visible" range from his prior magical growth.
But this time, Devon didn't attempt to dispel the mist.
Instead, he pulled his magic and perception inward—focusing solely on the match in his hand.
The fog slowly surrounded him.
Eventually, he could sense only the match.
But it still wasn't enough.
He narrowed his focus further, isolating just part of the match.
Gradually, its texture and inner structure became vivid in his mind.
Still not enough!
He compressed his awareness even further.
Now, the match appeared in his mind as vast and endless—like a continent stretched infinitely long and wide.
Still not enough!
Devon narrowed his perception to the extreme.
He was chasing something deeper.
He knew it was close.
So close!
Boom!
Suddenly, he was pulled into a strange space.
There was no mist, no professor, no students.
Not even eyes.
Only pure perception.
Devon realized he had finally reached the most fundamental structure of the match.
He couldn't see anything—but he could sense it.
Strange connections.
Underlying frameworks that tied existence together.
He greedily absorbed the structure of this microscopic world, studying the interwoven magic and material principles.
As his understanding deepened, he could tell exactly how much magic was needed to alter these connections.
Then, he attempted a change.
And succeeded.
Part of the match's wood was turned into iron—without chaos or instability.
Of course, this was all theoretical.
He couldn't confirm the result until he exited this state.
But just as he was about to retreat—
Suddenly—
An invisible chill crept into his soul.
It felt like a ghostly presence had wrapped around him.
An indescribable strangeness.
He was being watched.
Devon's heart thudded.
Where was this sensation coming from?
This was the microscopic world. There shouldn't be anyone—or anything—here.
But the sensation only grew stronger.
It was unnatural.
Terrifying.
His heart pounded faster and faster, as if something unseen was clutching it.
Ten seconds passed.
His heartbeat became wild, almost exploding in his chest.
This was bad!
Something unknown was invading him!
Devon immediately halted the Zen Meditation Method, attempting to flee this micro-realm.
Boom!
Blinding light filled his vision.
He blinked, stunned.
He was back in the classroom.
Sitting in his seat.
Soaked in cold sweat.
His body trembled slightly from fear.
And then, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
[Warning!]
[Detected Host entering the Microscopic World!]