Harry sat on his bed and waved his wand at the teacup in front of him. The cup twisted and warped, and in the next instant became a piece of bread.
This level of Transfiguration looked like something most witches and wizards could manage, but Harry knew what he had just done was completely different.
His Transfiguration was permanent.
Using Transfiguration, he had levered open a huge amount of normally untouchable magic and rewoven this particular spell into a permanent transformation.
The transformed bread would exist forever and had all the properties of real bread.
So the rule about "never eat transfigured food" simply didn't apply to Harry.
Now he could use anything to create food and water, and that was tremendously important.
When he went off alone to explore unfamiliar dimensions in the future, he wouldn't need to carry huge amounts of food and water with him.
So, after only a month in the wizarding world, Harry had already achieved one of alchemy's greatest accomplishments.
He could turn any substance into gold, a power said to belong only to the legendary Philosopher's Stone.
When he began the work of changing the wizarding world, Harry planned to use Transfiguration to earn his funding. That, too, was strategically significant.
Over this past month, besides Transfiguration, Harry had also tried crafting wands himself.
But unlike his tremendous progress with Transfiguration, he had made almost no headway with wandmaking.
First, without using runes, he found it very difficult to fuse magical materials together; the magical structure inside each wand was a complete jumble.
Second, even when he managed, by accident, to get the materials to merge, the resulting wand still didn't suit him.
At that point Harry finally understood why Ollivanders kept so many wands in stock. It seemed there really was some truth to the idea that the wand chose the wizard.
Perhaps even Mr. Ollivander couldn't precisely create a wand tailored to a particular witch or wizard, and could only let the wands "choose" for themselves.
Time passed quickly. On the first day of September, Aunt Petunia knocked gently on Harry's bedroom door.
"Harry, time to get up. Today's your first day of school."
Hearing movement inside, she slipped away, walked into the sitting room, said, "I'm an idiot," and then used telekinetic magic to float the dishes of food onto the table.
Harry got up. He had already stored most of his things in his pocket dimension; outside, he kept only Hedwig and a shoulder bag with his wizard's robes inside.
Over breakfast, Harry gave a final warning.
"Don't use magic in front of other people. If the Ministry of Magic finds out and throws you in Azkaban, I'm not coming to rescue you."
The Dursleys nodded furiously.
They drove to King's Cross Station in Uncle Vernon's car. After saying goodbye to the Dursley family, Harry made his way alone to the space between platforms nine and ten.
His letter said he needed to board at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Harry didn't find that confusing at all. It was clearly some sort of magic.
Sure enough, he sensed the presence of a spell in the pillar between the platforms and quickly understood exactly what it did.
Just as he was about to step through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he noticed a family of three standing nearby. They were searching for something and looked rather flustered.
Harry quickly sensed the magic inside the little witch whose fluffy hair made her look a bit like an otter, and he immediately guessed what was wrong.
So kind-hearted Harry walked over, his face bright with a sunny smile.
"I think you might need some help. I'm starting at Hogwarts this year too."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger were very anxious. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving soon, and they still hadn't found Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
At that moment, they suddenly heard a voice beside them. They turned to look and saw a tall, skinny boy standing there.
What had he said—he was also a new student at Hogwarts?
Thank goodness. They were saved!
Mr. Granger quickly ducked his head and said,
"Thank you, young wizard. I'm Granger, and we really do need your help.
"We've been searching for ages, but we can't find where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is. Could you tell us?"
"Of course. Please follow me." Harry led the Granger family to the pillar between the two platforms and said to the otter-like little witch,
"Do exactly as I do. You'll need to run at it—that'll take you through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. But your mum and dad can't come with you; this entrance only lets in witches and wizards who have magic."
Harry set off at a jog and ran straight at the pillar. To the Grangers' cries of alarm, he didn't smash his head; the moment he touched the stone, he vanished.
Mr. Granger ruffled his daughter's hair.
"Off you go, Hermione. Take good care of yourself at Hogwarts—and don't forget to thank that young wizard."
"Of course I will. Of course."
Passing through the pillar, Harry stepped onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. When he looked back, the space behind him had turned into an ironwork archway.
But he could still feel the magic there; the gateway remained in place.
Harry looked ahead, taking in this wizard-only platform, and his brow creased ever so slightly.
Compared to the outside, this platform was even more dilapidated. Even the Hogwarts Express waiting there was an old model, still running on steam.
Honestly… what kind of antiques were these?
White steam billowed out from the engine, filling the platform. People chattered and bustled past, and cats of every color wandered lazily between their feet.
Overhead, owls shrieked, calling back and forth to each other. Most of the students were already aboard, talking to their relatives through the open windows.
The scene was very lively, but Harry only felt more uneasy.
Could a wizarding world this stagnant and shut-in really stand against an invasion by dimensional demon gods?
While Harry was lost in thought, he suddenly felt something bump lightly into his back, followed by a clear little cry of pain.
"Ow!"
He turned and saw the little witch called Hermione sprawled on the ground, her luggage scattered everywhere from her trolley.
A moment's thought was enough for Harry to understand what had happened.
He hadn't stepped away from the exit of the passage, and Hermione, running through after him, had crashed right into his back.
His body was being reinforced by magic every second, so he was completely unharmed—but the rebound had knocked Hermione flying.
Harry hurried over, used telekinesis to float her bags back onto the trolley, and helped the poor little witch back to her feet.
She was tougher than he'd expected. Even though she'd been knocked down and scraped her knees, she didn't cry. Instead, she stared at Harry with bright curiosity.
"Wandless, wordless casting… You can't really be a first-year, can you? 'The Book of Spells' says that's a very advanced technique—something even adult witches and wizards struggle with."
A golden magic circle bloomed over Harry's palm. He swept it lightly over her scraped knees, and the bloodied skin returned at once to smooth, pale white.
Smiling, he answered, "It's not that hard. If you practice hard enough, you'll be able to do it too. And I really am a first-year."