Back in the dormitory, sitting at his desk, Regulus gently stroked the cover of Professor McGonagall's deep blue dragon-hide notebook.
He skimmed through a few pages. Just as the professor had said, there were no specific spells inside, but it was filled with profound reflections on the nature of Transfiguration.
One passage discussing the difficulty gradient of material Transfiguration caught his attention.
Professor McGonagall believed that the difficulty of Transfiguration was not only related to an object's complexity but was also intrinsically linked to the inherent stability of the material's internal structure and the strength of its morphological memory.
Combining today's discussion with his own practice, Regulus had essentially confirmed a conclusion regarding Transfiguration.
Transfiguring an element was more difficult than turning one complex compound into another, especially when the transformation involved a fundamental change in the material's inherent properties.
Turning a wooden stick into an iron bar was changing one complex organic structure into another metallic crystal structure; it was essentially transforming one established structure into another.
Many young wizards could do it, though most could only manage to alter its shape.
But turning graphite into diamond was changing one form of the element carbon into another.
It required, without altering the fundamental element, merely through completely restructuring its internal connections—or changing its molecular arrangement—to give birth to two substances with vastly different physical properties.
This involved understanding and reshaping matter at its most microscopic level, a difficulty far exceeding ordinary shape-shifting.
He took out a small piece of graphite he carried with him and began to practice.
He used his magical perception to delve into the graphite's interior, attempting to pry apart its layered, stacked structure, causing local distortions and cross-linking to create a small area of material with increased hardness and altered luster.
This process was extremely difficult.
Graphite's loose layered structure possessed a peculiar slip characteristic; when magic intervened, it often caused entire layers to slide, preventing local restructuring.
The slightest carelessness would destroy its integrity, even turning it into a pile of fluffy carbon powder.
He had to use incredibly precise magical control, like the most delicate engraving tool, carving and welding at the molecular level.
This gave him a deeper understanding of wizards and magic.
Wizards might not have developed a scientific system based on experiments and mathematics like Muggles to understand the world and the microscopic composition of matter, but they were by no means the inferior side.
Professor McGonagall, through brief observation alone, could accurately judge the intrinsic differences between graphite and diamond.
This intuitive perception of a substance's essence was something Muggle technology currently found hard to achieve.
Of course, Regulus's situation was different, benefiting from his previous life's foundational science education and his exceptionally keen magical perception after crossing over.
Yet, Professor McGonagall could make similar judgments based solely on experience and magical intuition. The gap here was a profound understanding accumulated over decades of immersion in the field of Transfiguration.
This also clarified for him the path to advancing further in Transfiguration: not only must one be able to change its form, but one must also understand the principles, ultimately reaching the realm of altering its very essence.
And the legendary Alchemy, especially the supreme achievement represented by the Philosopher's Stone, likely touched upon an even more terrifying domain.
That should involve more than just the reorganization of molecular arrangements; it might involve the reconstruction of atoms at a more fundamental level.
For example, turning lead into gold likely meant changing the number of protons within the atomic nucleus, or at least perfectly simulating all the chemical bonds and macroscopic properties of a gold atom.
This completely exceeded the scope of Transfiguration, not to mention its ability to grant immortality, prolong life, and itself contain vast magical power.
Even Lord Voldemort wanted to use it to resurrect.
During a break in his practice, his thoughts continued to wander.
The air was filled with various elements and compounds: nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, water vapor, noble gases… Yet the magic of the vast majority of wizards, whether protective charms, attack spells, or everyday magic, did not specifically filter or defend against subtle changes in these invisible, intangible components in the air.
Not that it couldn't be done—it wasn't difficult—but it was subconsciously overlooked.
For example, oxygen.
A thought suddenly surfaced: what if the elemental oxygen in the air around a human body was instantly transformed via Transfiguration into another substance based on oxygen atoms that the body couldn't utilize?
Like ozone.
One could even have other substances transfigured into oxygen to be inhaled, then change back to their original form after gas exchange in the body.
For example, fiberglass, asbestos, or radioactive elements—anything.
The key lay in the high-precision identification and instantaneous transformation of specific elements.
Of course, this was currently just theoretical speculation, but the direction was certainly correct.
Just as Regulus was immersed in microscopic Transfiguration and dangerous theorizing, the dormitory door opened, and Avery Cuthbert returned.
He saw Regulus sitting at the desk, a small, twisted, deformed object with a strange luster floating before him, a subtle yet condensed light flowing from the tip of his wand.
He was clearly practicing some kind of magic.
Transfiguration?
The "hey" on Avery's lips was immediately swallowed back.
Considering himself now on the same side as Regulus, he knew better than to disturb him casually. He tiptoed back to his own bed and put down his books.
Soon, Alex Rosier also returned, carrying a stack of books, his face relaxed after finishing his homework.
Seeing Regulus, he instinctively wanted to greet him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Avery immediately raised a finger to his lips, glared at him fiercely, and jerked his chin towards Regulus's direction.
Startled, Alex quickly covered his mouth, looked in the direction Avery indicated, and saw Regulus's focused practice scene.
He immediately fell silent, carefully walking to his own bed, but feeling rather good inside.
Although Avery still had that haughty demeanor, he had only used a gesture to stop him, not directly knocking him out with a Petrificus Totalus or Stupefy.
Alex couldn't help but reflect that the atmosphere in the dormitory really did seem different from before.
Before, it was Avery being haughty and dictatorial, Hermes being gloomy and inscrutable, Regulus being silent and aloof, and him being timid and apprehensive.
Now, although a clear sense of hierarchy remained, at least Avery no longer bullied people arbitrarily, and Regulus, though powerful, was not overbearing.
He suspected this change was largely due to Regulus's presence and influence.
Regulus noticed his roommates' return and movements, but he didn't let it distract him.
His mind was racing, magic pouring forth as he simultaneously maintained fine control over the graphite's internal structure.
Transfiguration based on molecular arrangement—through Professor McGonagall's demonstration and the notebook's inspiration—he had clearly found the path, but putting it into practice was still time-consuming and laborious.
The last to return was Hermes Mulciber.
He pushed the door open, bringing in a chill from outside.
His first glance took in Regulus practicing, Avery's slightly provocative gesture of stop, and Alex's cautious attitude.
A nearly imperceptible, mocking curve touched Hermes's lips.
He was indifferent to Avery's act of voluntary surrender, even looking down on it somewhat.
Although he had lost to Regulus in that duel for leadership and was shocked by how easily the other had neutralized his immature Bone-Blood Separation, he still retained a strong sense of confidence within.
He believed he still had many unseen trump cards—those were the real power.
At school, many methods were indeed inconvenient to display.
But outside, in an unconstrained life-or-death duel, Hermes believed that, relying on those true Dark Arts passed down in his family, he might not be without a chance to kill Regulus.
Several family-inherited or secretly acquired Dark Arts flashed quickly through his mind.
Shadow-Bind Devourer: Summons shadowy tentacles originating from dark creatures, capable of not only binding the enemy but also continuously draining their life force and magic. The bound victim feels a bone-chilling cold and soul-deep weakness.
Pain Echo: Upon striking, it continuously amplifies and prolongs all suffering the target subsequently endures, including physical damage and psychological fear.
And it constantly echoes within their body, causing ongoing mental collapse and loss of physical control, often leading to suicide or complete madness from the inability to bear the superimposed pain.
Withering Breath: A malicious curse-type magic. The victim doesn't die immediately, but starting from the wound or point of magical contact, flesh, blood, and magic slowly wither like a plant until necrosis.
Extremely difficult to cure, the process is long and painful, and it emits an aura that causes surrounding plants to decay as well.
This was the kind of power worth pursuing!
Swift, lethal, full of pain and deterrence, capable of making enemies feel fear from the depths of their souls.
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