human again / hp.

Chapter 6

Professor McGonagall's classroom was immaculate, every desk aligned perfectly in rows beneath the high-arched windows. The sunlight streamed through, casting a warm glow over the polished wood and stacks of neatly arranged parchment. As we filed in, the quiet anticipation of the first lesson filled the air.

Professor McGonagall stood at the front, her robes crisp and her gaze as sharp as the quill on her desk. With a flick of her wand, the chalkboard behind her filled with notes in elegant, looping handwriting.

"Good morning, class," she greeted us, her tone precise and authoritative, cutting through the lingering murmurs. "I trust you're all ready to begin your studies in Transfiguration."

We nodded in unison, some more eagerly than others, and the lesson began. McGonagall's explanations were as disciplined as her demeanor, her voice steady as she walked us through the intricate theory behind Transfiguration. The subject was fascinating, though intimidating. She made it clear from the outset that this was no place for frivolity.

"Transfiguration is among the most complex branches of magic you will study at Hogwarts," she said, her gaze sweeping over the room. "It demands focus, precision, and respect. Foolishness will not be tolerated."

The room was silent, save for the scratch of quills taking notes. Everything about her commanded respect, and no one dared break the rhythm of her lesson—until one student hesitantly raised their hand.

"Professor," the girl asked, her voice trembling slightly, "is it true that you're an Animagus?"

A ripple of curiosity swept through the room. Even those pretending not to listen perked up.

Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly, though her eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "Indeed, it is true," she said, stepping back from her desk. "And since you've asked..."

Without another word, she transformed. Her body shifted gracefully, shrinking in an instant, her robes folding into the sleek fur of a tabby cat. The small feline leaped lightly onto her desk, her distinctive square-shaped markings around the eyes unmistakable.

A collective gasp of amazement filled the room, followed by an awed silence. The cat stood there for a moment, her tail flicking slightly, before leaping back down. In another fluid motion, she resumed her human form, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.

"Transfiguration is not merely a matter of waving your wand," she said, her tone calm but firm. "It is an art that requires discipline and mastery. I expect each of you to approach it with the seriousness it demands."

Before anyone could respond, the classroom door suddenly burst open with a loud bang, making several students jump.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stumbled in, both panting as though they'd just sprinted through the entire castle.

"Whew! Made it!" Ron exclaimed, grinning at Harry as they hurried inside. "Can you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?"

The class burst into stifled giggles as all eyes shifted toward the professor. Harry and Ron froze as they realized their mistake—Professor McGonagall was standing right there, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

With a practiced motion, she adjusted her spectacles, her glare cutting through the laughter like a knife. "Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley," she said, her tone icy. "Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocket watch. That way, one of you might be on time."

Harry gave a sheepish shrug. "We got lost," he offered, his voice small.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, her expression unimpressed. "Then perhaps a map?" she said sharply, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I trust you don't need one to find your seats."