Navigating Hogwarts was like exploring a living, breathing maze. The castle seemed to have a mind of its own—shifting staircases, hidden corridors, and doors that sometimes led to where you wanted—and other times, to broom closets.
After breakfast, Hermione, Rose, and I decided to get a better sense of the place before our first class.
"Transfiguration's on the first floor," Hermione said, glancing at her schedule. "We should get there early."
"Good idea," I replied, my curiosity growing. "I want to see what Professor McGonagall's like in class."
Rose nodded in agreement. "I heard she's strict but brilliant."
Ron, however, was nowhere to be found. He'd been snoring softly when we left the dormitory, completely dead to the world.
"Should we wake him?" Rose had asked before we left.
Hermione had pursed her lips, clearly torn. "He needs to learn to get up on time," she had muttered, and that was that.
As we made our way through the corridors, I marveled at the living portraits lining the walls. They whispered among themselves, some casting curious glances at us. One particularly nosy witch in a portrait of a ballroom leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as I passed.
"Strange one, that boy," she murmured to her neighbor, a dashing young knight.
"Shrouded," the knight replied, his voice low but clear. "Can't see past the surface."
I caught the words, but I pretended not to notice, my steps faltering for just a moment.
"Did you hear that?" Rose asked softly, her brow furrowed.
"Probably just portrait gossip," Hermione said dismissively, but her tone was a little too brisk, as if she was trying to convince herself.
I didn't respond, though. I couldn't shake the feeling that the portraits saw something… something I was still trying to understand myself.
As we turned a corner, Peeves the poltergeist swooped down from above, a wicked grin plastered across his face.
"First-years, first-years!" Peeves sang in a shrill voice, floating upside down. "Lost and wandering, oh so clueless!"
"Leave us alone, Peeves," Hermione said sharply, her tone laced with authority.
Peeves grinned wider. "Ooooh, bossy one, I like you." Then his beady eyes landed on me, and the grin faltered for a moment.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Peeves circled me, squinting as if trying to see something just out of reach. "You're… different."
I tensed. I didn't like the way Peeves was looking at me, almost like he could sense something.
"Shiny… but hidden…" Peeves muttered, then cackled and zoomed away before I could even ask what he meant.
"That was… weird," Rose muttered, watching Peeves vanish down the corridor.
"Yeah…" I murmured, a chill running down my spine. I shook off the feeling and followed the others, but Peeves' words lingered in my mind.
When we finally arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, it was strangely empty.
"Where's the professor?" Hermione frowned, looking around.
The classroom was quiet, except for a small tabby cat sitting on the desk at the front. Its emerald-green eyes gleamed as it watched us with a disturbingly intelligent gaze.
"Looks like we beat the professor," Rose said softly, sitting down beside Hermione.
But I had a knowing glint in my eyes. I recognized those eyes instantly.
McGonagall.
A mischievous smile tugged at my lips. I knew exactly what was happening here.
"Hmm… what have we here?" I murmured softly, approaching the desk and crouching beside the cat. "A stray? Or maybe… a secret?"
The cat blinked, clearly unimpressed by my antics.
"Are you lost, little one?" I continued, my tone playful, but my eyes danced with amusement. I reached out a hand, scratching lightly behind the cat's ears.
The cat's tail flicked, but it didn't move away.
"Maybe you should find your way back to the forest," I whispered softly, just loud enough for Hermione and Rose to hear.
"Ethan!" Hermione hissed, her eyes wide with horror. "What are you doing?"
"I think it likes me," I said, barely holding back a grin.
Hermione and Rose were staring in disbelief, their faces turning red.
Before anything else could happen, the door suddenly burst open. Ron stumbled in, panting slightly, his hair a mess.
"Sorry… sorry," Ron mumbled, trying to catch his breath. "I overslept."
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione muttered under her breath, clearly exasperated.
Ron barely had time to sit down before—
THUD.
The cat leapt off the desk, landing gracefully on the floor. And before anyone could blink—
The cat transformed.
Professor McGonagall now stood where the tabby had been, her sharp gaze sweeping over the class. But her eyes immediately locked onto Ron.
"Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice cool but firm, "you've managed to grace us with your presence at last."
Ron paled, his ears turning bright red. "Er… yeah… sorry, Professor…"
"Perhaps if you woke up on time, you wouldn't have to sprint through the corridors," McGonagall said pointedly, arching an eyebrow.
Ron mumbled something incoherent and slid lower in his seat, avoiding her gaze.
Hermione's face turned beet red. Rose was no better.
"Mr. Carter," McGonagall said, her voice cool but laced with amusement. "I do not believe I require directions to the Forbidden Forest."
The class went dead silent.
I straightened up, a sheepish grin on my face. "Just… making sure you were comfortable, Professor."
A few students snickered softly, but Hermione looked like she wanted to melt into her seat. Rose was covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"I see," McGonagall said dryly. "Do sit down, Mr. Carter."
I returned to my seat, my grin still lingering.
"Smooth," Rose murmured under her breath, her green eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.
"Shut up," Hermione muttered, her face still pink.
McGonagall's eyes swept over the class.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she began, her tone firm. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave faster than they can say 'Quidditch.'"
The class fell into a respectful silence.
"Transfiguration is the art of changing the form and appearance of an object," McGonagall continued, her gaze sharp as she paced at the front of the room. "It is a precise science that requires focus, intent, and unwavering concentration. Wand movements must be exact, and pronunciation flawless. A single misstep can have… unfortunate results."
Her eyes swept over the class meaningfully.
"Today, we'll begin with something simple." McGonagall waved her wand, and matchsticks appeared in front of each student. "Transfigure these matchsticks into needles. Let's see what you can do."
Hermione was already muttering under her breath, her wand poised and ready. Rose was right behind her, her brow furrowed in concentration. I, however, felt… calm. Almost too calm.
I focused on the matchstick, feeling the familiar hum of energy within me. My Kavach and Kundal stirred slightly, though I barely noticed. I channeled the intent through my wand, and with a quiet swish—
The matchstick transformed into a needle.
But not just any needle.
It gleamed softly in the light—a perfect, polished, golden needle.
My brow furrowed. That wasn't supposed to happen.
McGonagall, who had been walking around observing the class, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw it.
"Mr. Carter…" Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of… curiosity. "May I see that?"
I handed her the needle, and McGonagall studied it closely.
"Impressive," she murmured, her eyes flicking to me with an unreadable expression. "A perfect transfiguration… and more. Very impressive indeed."
The class was staring now, whispers buzzing around me. Hermione's eyes were practically sparkling with curiosity, while Ron looked like I had just grown a second head.
"Continue practicing," McGonagall said, her voice returning to its usual authoritative tone. "Mr. Carter, help those who are struggling."
I blinked. "Help…?"
"You clearly have a knack for this," McGonagall said, her expression softening just a fraction. "I expect you to assist your classmates."
I nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and confusion.
As the class went on, I moved around, offering tips and advice. Hermione was surprisingly receptive to my suggestions, though she pretended not to need help. Rose, on the other hand, was eager to listen, her curiosity as boundless as ever.
But my mind was elsewhere.
Golden.
I knew it wasn't normal. And I had a nagging suspicion that my Kavach and Kundal had something to do with it.
By the time the class ended, my head was swimming with questions. As we gathered our things and prepared for our next lesson, my thoughts lingered on the transfiguration that had stunned even Professor McGonagall.
Whatever was happening to me… it was only just beginning.