Chapter 17: When the Wizard Chooses Magic, Magic Also Chooses the Wizard

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Professor McGonagall may have become headmistress by chance.

But there was no denying the power of Transfiguration.

In Roger’s view, Transfiguration was the magic closest to godhood.

It could turn metal into cotton, toxins into nutrients, and water and fire into a gentle breeze. Even the “summoning and vanishing” that belonged to Transfiguration could directly alter whether matter existed at all. With that single branch of magic, nearly every nonmagical method in the modern world would become meaningless.

Calling it “the ultimate art of manipulating matter” would hardly be an exaggeration.

Even the five principal exceptions to Gamp’s Fundamental Laws of Transfiguration—such as the rule that food created through Transfiguration could not satisfy hunger—were, in essence, merely the result of transfigured matter becoming an integrated whole that could not be broken apart before the spell was lifted. The nutrients within it could not be separated and absorbed by the human body.

If a wizard could transfigure the fundamental particles of matter one by one, then reassemble them into bread, it would still be capable of satisfying hunger…

It was the weakness of wizards that limited the potential of Transfiguration, not any flaw in Transfiguration itself.

If there were a wizard whose mental power approached that of a god, someone powerful enough to comprehend every aspect of magic, then by relying on Transfiguration alone, that wizard could imitate the effects of nearly every form of magic.

Transfiguration had the qualifications to become the fulcrum capable of moving everything.

Moreover, Roger had received a systematic scientific education in his previous life, and he was not an especially emotional person. Compared with those forms of magic that emphasized extreme emotions and spirituality, casting through “fantasy,” Transfiguration—which leaned more toward reason and was better suited to being cast through “conception”—was far more compatible with him.

Among the theoretical books Professor McGonagall had lent Roger, there was one besides Ritual Magic Is Far More Than Blood Sacrifice that he found particularly interesting.

It was also this book that made Roger feel that, if it was not absolutely necessary, he should keep his distance from the Dark Arts—and that Transfiguration might be the magic best suited to his own path toward immortality.

Is Casting Through Extreme Emotion a Mistaken Path?

The book had been written in ancient Europe, during an era when bloody and terrifying ancient magic was still widespread. Its author was an old wizard whose life was drawing to an end.

In the age when he wrote the book, the Modification faction, the Ritual faction, and the External-Object faction had not yet undergone the countless trials that would later establish them as the three universally acknowledged great disciplines. Nor had they yet developed into the systems now familiar to the world: bloodline and soul modification, Transfiguration, the bewildering and intricate schools of ritual magic, alchemy, potions, and more.

In the region where the author lived, another school was prevalent among wizards who pursued power.

The Emotionalists.

It was common knowledge that emotions accounted for a substantial portion of the power of the mind. Extreme love, hatred, grief, joy, and the desire to protect others could often cause a person to erupt with unimaginable strength.

Lily Potter’s love magic, for example, had protected her son so completely that even Voldemort’s Killing Curse could not break through it.

Even after ten years had passed, the slightest touch from Voldemort still provoked a tremendous backlash.

And extreme emotional suffering had created the terrifying monsters known as the Dementors of Azkaban.

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Hatred and repression directed toward oneself could give rise to powerful Obscuruses.

The phenomena that different emotions could produce—phenomena surpassing the power of ordinary wizards—were astonishingly diverse.

The ancient wizards of that era believed that tampering with emotions was the correct path to breaking through the shackles imposed by the limits of mental power and becoming divine.

The secluded lives led by wizards today, together with the fact that modern magic had replaced ancient magic, silently testified to the fate of that group.

Most of Is Casting Through Extreme Emotion a Mistaken Path? consisted of an old wizard’s reflections upon his life—the honest words of a man nearing death. It was something between an autobiography and a memoir.

What Roger considered most valuable was that the old wizard had proposed two theoretical conjectures in the book.

The Theory of Magical Thought Echoes and the Theory of Magical Selection.

When discussing these theories, the old wizard began with the wand—the “starting point” of almost every wizard.

“When I purchased the first wand of my life, Mr. Ollivander told me that a wizard chooses a wand, and a wand chooses a wizard.”

“Do not turn your eyes toward those extraordinary wands of legend. You are not compatible with them. Even if you held one, you would not become some great figure of legend. The wand would reject you, you would be unable to cast a single spell, and you would suffer its backlash besides.”

“This is your wand. It may appear utterly unremarkable, but it will grow alongside you. Every choice you make will change you, and it will change the wand as well.”

“A person’s greatness originates in every choice that person makes.”

—People and wands chose one another, and they influenced one another in turn. Casting spells worked the same way.

“A wizard chooses magic, and magic chooses a wizard!”

Just as someone without happy memories could not cast a Patronus, and someone without murderous intent could not cast the Killing Curse.

“Wizards influence magic.”

The more a person rejected the outside world, the more powerful that person’s Banishing Charm would become. Those who cherished an unfettered sense of freedom would tend to be more skilled at the Levitation Charm.

“Magic also influences wizards.”

Those who spent years studying Dark Arts that required intensely negative emotions in order to cast them successfully would grow increasingly gloomy, become hostile toward many things around them, and lose their tempers more easily…

“And this emotional influence is not limited to the Dark Arts. It exists in every spell!”

The Shield Charm, for example, inclined people toward caution, while the Patronus Charm inclined them toward optimism. But this was not particularly important, because even influence had to follow basic principles.

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The more intensely you poured your will into a spell, the more powerfully that spell would affect you in return.

If the will and emotion you invested were slight, the influence you received would be negligible.

In other words, as long as you avoided casting through extreme will and emotion, and did not recklessly push yourself to the limit every time—casting until your blood pressure soared and every vein stood out across your body—there would be no serious consequences.

How many times in an ordinary wizard’s life could he truly stake everything on a spell? Any minor effects would be erased by the passage of time.

If you insisted on dabbling in Dark Arts that could not be cast without extreme emotion, then no one could save you.

…All of this not only made Roger more wary of the Dark Arts and exploitative methods of casting, but also helped him understand how important it was to choose spells suited to oneself.

Harry Potter, for instance, used Expelliarmus from beginning to end. Did that mean he knew no other combat spells?

A wizard chose a spell, and the spell chose a wizard as well. A spell that suited its caster could, with one unit of power, produce ten units’ worth of effect.

Roger wished to achieve immortality. At present, the path he had chosen was the “Modification faction” proposed by the ancient wizards.

Wizards had been unable to walk this path because they lacked a sufficient number of experimental subjects.

Roger, however, intended to use his “experimental saintly body”—which could sense danger in advance—to force his way into the mysteries of life.

He did not know how long it would take him to accomplish his goal.

Perhaps several years. Perhaps several decades. Perhaps he would fail to achieve it even at the moment of his death, like Kua Fu chasing the sun or Don Quixote charging against windmills, leaving behind only a wistful legend for the world after he was gone.

But once Roger had decided to pursue immortality, he would never abandon any choice that might increase his chances of success.

After testing it, Roger found that Transfiguration possessed not only tremendous potential, but also a remarkable compatibility with him.

Naturally, when it came to something as closely tied to his own fate and future, Roger would not simply shut himself away and build theories based on assumptions.

“Professor McGonagall, what do you think of my idea?”

After the Transfiguration lesson ended, the other Gryffindor students gradually filed out of the classroom. Roger remained behind. He wanted to seek advice from this exceptionally experienced professor, who had once given him so much help.

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