"Idiot."
After that guy named Connie left, Andrew finally couldn't hold back and cursed aloud.
Normally, he wasn't the type to talk behind people's backs, but today he just couldn't help it.
He'd already mocked the guy to his face, and yet the guy acted like it was a compliment, even smugly enjoying it.
Fine, be the type to bully the weak and fear the strong, but to top it off with all those excuses—damn it, how did Ravenclaw become like this?
He had felt something was off before, but now it was clear: this so-called "Ministry of Magic faction" wasn't some serious group. After a few rounds of internal "selection," the ones left basically thought of themselves as Ministry officials already.
But clearly, they weren't. This group was just lost in their own delusions—and Andrew could now confirm that there wasn't any organization actually responsible for guaranteed placement into the Ministry.
"So-called selection was just filtering out normal people, leaving behind a bunch of delusional maniacs..."
"That guy talked forever and only said a few useful things—and even those were one-sided…"
"Let's at least check if those club activities have anything useful," he told himself. "Can't just be disgusted for nothing."
He felt helpless. Openly quitting would only make things worse. His best option was to leave the group quietly. Extremists had far more cohesion—and far more ways to make your life miserable—than regular students. If he were older, he could have been more direct, but for now, he'd have to take the roundabout route.
"Feels like I joined some kind of illegal cult…"
Andrew sighed, composed himself, made sure no one could tell he'd been upset, then left the classroom briskly, heading toward the library.
The top priority now wasn't arguing with those lunatics—it was getting the recommended books and finishing his paper for the professor as soon as possible.
"'A Micro Guide to Transfiguration on Complex Structures', 'Fundamentals of Transfiguration Structures'?"
When Andrew handed over the parchment to Madam Pince, the stern librarian, to ask for help, she glanced at the titles, then at him with a somewhat puzzled expression.
"Well, at least they're not on the restricted list—eighteenth shelf, third row."
"Thank you very much, Madam Pince."
Andrew thanked her and made his way toward the shelf, taking the opportunity to casually examine how the Hogwarts library organized its books.
The older collections were grouped by subject, and within each shelf, the books were organized alphabetically by the first two words of the title.
"If you know the book title, it's easy to find. But if you're just browsing by content, you'd need recommendations. Otherwise, self-study is almost impossible… Guess I'll just freeload when I attend group meetings."
With the belief that even a scrap of paper has its value, Andrew pulled the books he needed while pondering.
Since he wasn't in a rush to eat, he found an empty table and sat down to skim through the two books Professor McGonagall had recommended.
"Transfiguration is not simply about changing one object's appearance into another—especially in the case of compound structures.
Take the common example of a chair.
At first glance, it seems like a single object, but for a successful transfiguration, the transformed item must replicate a chair that can be disassembled like a real one—otherwise, if the magic's structural integrity is compromised during use, it will revert to its original form…"
"...Whew."
Andrew sucked in a breath. He hadn't expected such complexity from something as "simple" as transforming inanimate objects.
He inserted a bookmark where he'd stopped, then, refusing to be intimidated, flipped further into the book—sure enough, it remained focused solely on transfiguring lifeless matter. But the discussion on object structure, material, color, durability, and spell duration was already far beyond his current understanding.
"And I was so smug just for turning a beetle into a button…"
Andrew was awestruck—this was true professionalism. Without Professor McGonagall's guidance, he wouldn't have found such targeted material even in a year.
"Disassemble, substitute, and then imagine the full object…"
He spread out a parchment, jotting down ideas as they came, only to cross most of them out again as he read further.
"I see…"
"OUT!!!"
Just as Andrew was struggling with a complex idea, Madam Pince's thunderous voice startled him. He turned instinctively and saw a Hufflepuff kid being smacked around—by a loaf of white bread.
His backpack was following behind, thumping him during the pauses in the bread's assault.
"NO FOOD IN THE LIBRARY!"
Madam Pince's voice rang out again. Unlike her gentleness at the checkout desk, she now sounded like a tiger patrolling her territory.
After silently mocking the poor kid who got caught breaking the rules, Andrew suddenly noticed how hungry he was. He looked out the window—and realized it was already dark.
"Crap… I need to eat."
He packed up his notes, headed over to Madam Pince's desk—who was still fuming—and politely checked the books out before rushing toward the Great Hall with his bag.
"Made it."
Dinner was halfway through, but at least it wasn't over yet.
Starving, Andrew found his roommates' table and slid into a nearby empty seat.
"What happened to you? Didn't come back to the dorm and look like you haven't eaten in days."
Bell—one of his roommates—asked curiously, noticing how disheveled Andrew looked.
"I heard he passed the entrance test for that Ministry-of-Magic-dream-club on the first day of school," said another boy with freckles, named Hal, jumping in to explain. "They say the Ministry recruits every year from the houses, and your club gets most of the spots."
"Most, huh? Yeah, right…"
Andrew rolled his eyes internally, but couldn't say what he really thought about that arrogant sixth-year guy—not yet, anyway.
At the very least, if they really were monopolizing Ministry spots, then fine—act like it. But no, they were worse than the student council…
"You guys are pretty solid though. At least you're thinking about your future. I spent my whole afternoon playing Exploding Snap…"
"Cards?"
"Yeah, and I barely won. The upperclassmen can pretty much figure out your whole hand after a few rounds—but there's still hope… we've got a weekend event where students from all the houses gather to play. We're even allowed to go easy on each other a bit."
So that's the hope…
Wait—no, that is hope.
There are normal clubs and normal people. Only the ones I ran into were crazy… thank Merlin.
Andrew brightened considerably—and decided he deserved another scoop of ice cream as a reward.