Who Can Refuse Becoming a Kitty?

If for Gryffindor students the most unbearable class was Snape's Potions, then for Slytherin, the most difficult course was Gryffindor Head of House Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall, like the former Professor Weasley, was fair and strict, and did not treat students differently based on which House she was teaching. In Glenn's view, this was a very admirable quality.

On the other hand, Professor Snape's blatant favoritism was, for a teacher, actually unqualified. He didn't understand why this professor was so particularly attentive whenever it came to Harry. In class, he could barely go a few sentences without mentioning Harry, calling him up to answer questions. That in itself wasn't a problem—after all, teachers had the right to question students—but the frequency was just a bit too excessive.

But recalling that night before arriving at Hogwarts, Harry had said he always felt Professor Snape was staring at him. And Glenn had also noticed that if Professor McGonagall hadn't interrupted, Snape would have brought up Harry in the context of blame... Could it be that Professor Snape truly took an instant, baseless dislike to someone upon first meeting? Or was it because he resented famous students? Glenn remained skeptical about that.

But regardless of the professors' behavior, as students, they first needed to figure out where the Transfiguration teacher had gone.

"Aha, Professor McGonagall is late. Maybe we can skip class," Malfoy said loudly to Goyle and Crabbe behind him. "Perhaps we should report this to the Headmaster..."

Glenn glanced at the clock in the classroom. It wasn't yet time for class, so she wasn't technically late. It was just that Professor McGonagall always came early, and no one knew exactly when she arrived. The only thing certain was that every first student to enter the classroom received an approving look from her. For such a punctual professor to be late?

"Could something have happened?" Glenn wondered. If that were the case, they might really need to report it to Dumbledore...

But before he could think further, several Slytherin girls in the classroom suddenly screamed. "Ah! There's a cat in the classroom!"

Following their gaze, they saw a silver tabby cat pacing elegantly on the podium. It had clear markings around its eyes, just like the square-framed glasses Professor McGonagall usually wore.

"Well, I guess we don't need to guess who the cat's owner is," Blaise said with a shrug. "Never thought Professor McGonagall would be so creative. Knowing she couldn't come early this time, she sent a cat to teach us."

Though most of the boys sneered at this, the girls found it amusing. They stepped forward to observe the unexpected visitor.

"Its fur is smooth and glossy. I think Professor McGonagall must have put a lot of effort into it, but I've never heard she had a cat before," said Daphne Greengrass, her pale blonde hair catching the light, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Pansy Parkinson snorted beside her. "It's really nothing special, honestly. Not as good as the one I have at home. Even Filch's Mrs. Norris is cuter—at least Mrs. Norris doesn't have markings that look like those old-fashioned square glasses on her face..."

The "Mrs. Norris" she mentioned was a dark gray female cat owned by Filch, scrawny and nearly skin and bones. Her favorite pastime was wandering around Hogwarts Castle. Whenever she caught a student breaking rules, she would dart off with incredible agility to tattle to the caretaker. More than a pet, students preferred to call her "Filch's spy" to describe this unpopular cat. But for Slytherins, their opinion wasn't as bad as the other Houses—because Mrs. Norris often caught Gryffindors sneaking out for midnight adventures.

"Speaking of which, lately Mrs. Norris seems to be looking for another cat as a mate... Is this one male or female..." As she spoke, Pansy reached out to check for herself.

But the next moment, her pupils contracted, her face went pale, and she yanked her hand back as if shocked. There was no cat on the podium. Only Professor McGonagall standing behind it, her expression stern. "Miss Parkinson, I think this will be a very good lesson—teaching you not to let your guard down when facing an unfamiliar animal."

Seeing this, the Slytherin students quickly took their seats, not daring to say another word. And Professor McGonagall didn't scold them for the minor offense; in her view, this was simply part of the teaching process.

"As I've said before, Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you will study at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, scanning the students sitting stiffly at attention. "Among it, there is a type of wizard who, through long-term, high-difficulty systematic training, can—without external aid or forced wandless casting—autonomously, reversibly, and without physiological side effects, freely switch between human form and a single fixed animal form. We call them—Animagi."

As she finished speaking, whispers broke out among the students. Clearly, this concept was incredibly appealing to a bunch of ten-year-olds. Who could resist turning into a cute cat anywhere, anytime? Ahem, that was just a joke—not everyone wanted to become a cat.

Like the Ashwinder Party a century ago, many of its members were Animagi, most of whom chose to transform into agile, aggressive beasts like wolves and leopards.

Not that Glenn minded, though.

After all, that way, he could turn their animal forms into spiders without any burden, then crush them under his heel.

Unsanitary, sure, but the deterrent effect was strong—every Ashwinder Party member who saw it would scream and scatter in all directions.

But Glenn wasn't the kind of dark wizard who enjoyed terrorizing people, and he certainly didn't want them scattering.

So he preferred turning them into powder kegs and tossing them out—with the explosion, he could take out many at once.

Glenn called that efficiency.

Meanwhile, on the podium, Professor McGonagall's lesson continued, but it was all theoretical now.

"Currently, the most advanced school in the world regarding Animagus techniques is Wagadu School of Magic in Uganda. According to Professor Dumbledore, they select talented students for corresponding training..."

Huh, another familiar name—Wagadu School of Magic.

Glenn looked out the window, his thoughts drifting back a century.

As mentioned before, he had once annihilated the largest organization of dark wizards at the time—the Ashwinder Party.

But in truth, that feat wasn't accomplished by him alone.

Aside from some brave resisters, there was also a Gryffindor who couldn't stand by and do nothing—her name was Nacha Onai.

But because her name was a bit of a mouthful, people preferred to call her Nana.

She was a transfer student from Wagadu School of Magic to Hogwarts.

Long before Glenn transferred in, she had been working tirelessly to bring down the Ashwinder Party.

As a student, she received death threats many times, nearly died on several occasions, and even her mother chose to lock her up, telling her to mind her own business...

It was hard to imagine how she held on under that kind of external and internal pressure...

Maybe that was the courage of a Gryffindor.

Worth noting, Professor McGonagall was right—Wagadu School of Magic's Animagus techniques were indeed highly advanced.

Back when Glenn first learned about Animagi, it was Nana who pointed it out to him—at the time, he'd almost been ambushed by a wolf that was actually an Ashwinder Party member in disguise...

"So will we learn how to become Animagi too?" Daphne asked, a hint of longing in her voice.

"No, Miss Greengrass. Hogwarts does not teach any specific methods for becoming an Animagus. I am merely informing you that such people exist in the world," Professor McGonagall said firmly.

"You see, becoming an Animagus is extremely dangerous. It involves many terrifying experiences and complex rituals that are hard to imagine..."

"For these reasons, the entire British magical community has only seven officially registered Animagi!"

Professor McGonagall's words landed like a bucket of cold water on the students' heads.

Indeed, some of their elders had also said that becoming an Animagus wasn't a good thing.

As for why, they didn't know—because those elders had heard it from their own elders, and all that had been passed down was one phrase: becoming an Animagus could very well bring misfortune.

Amid a wave of sighs, Glenn's gaze returned from the window to the classroom. After hearing Professor McGonagall's words, he was a bit surprised.

"Only seven left?"

No way—when he'd traveled all over Britain, he'd seen one every few steps!