Harry Potter: The Gryffindor Warrior - HP / Hogwarts

[Chapter Size: 1900 Words.]

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Although had always been the center of attention among your peers due to your appearance since childhood, and although he had learned from Hermione that some wizards believed him to be the savior, he liked the feeling of being noticed.

But when he actually found himself facing a crowd of students lining up just to watch, some even blocking the entrances to the dormitories and common rooms just to watch, he felt nothing but discomfort.

But today was Harry's first day of class.

Of course, such attention had its benefits. Without so many people watching, Harry was certain that he and Ron, who had overslept on the very first day, would have been late for their first Transfiguration lesson.

And that was a class he could not afford to be late for.

The Transfiguration course for first-year students was taught by none other than Professor McGonagall herself. Not only was she the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, but she was also the Head of Gryffindor House, Harry's house.

Harry didn't even want to imagine how she would punish him if he were late for her class. After all, Professor McGonagall always seemed so strict.

To be fair, it wasn't entirely Harry and Ron's fault that they had nearly been late. Even though they had woken up later than planned, they still should have been able to reach the classroom on time, if they had skipped breakfast.

But Hogwarts, for all its wonders, had one rather frustrating flaw: the corridors and staircases were absolutely ridiculous.

The staircases moved unpredictably, shifting at random times without warning.

One moment, a staircase might take you straight to your destination, the next, it could lead you somewhere entirely unknown. One second, you could see the classroom at the end of the corridor; the next, the corridor itself might have vanished, replaced by an entirely different part of the castle.

The whole system was maddening, and Harry had a few choice words for whoever had designed it.

Luckily, with the help of several amused upper-year students who had been watching the chaos unfold, Harry and Ron managed to find their way to the Transfiguration classroom just in time.

But being on time didn't make Transfiguration any easier.

While reviewing at home, Harry had already realized that Transfiguration was the hardest subject of them all.

He could grasp most of his other subjects just by reading the textbooks. In Charms, he had even managed to perform some basic spells successfully.

But Transfiguration was something else entirely. Just glancing at the complex descriptions and theories in the textbook made his head spin.

Professor McGonagall, ever the serious and no-nonsense teacher, had made it perfectly clear from the start: Transfiguration was one of the most dangerous forms of magic young witches and wizards would encounter at Hogwarts. She sternly warned that any student who dared to fool around in her class would be asked to leave immediately.

She spoke with such authority that Harry had no doubt she meant every word.

Before the lesson officially began, Professor McGonagall demonstrated just how advanced Transfiguration could become.

With a single tap of her wand, the wooden podium beside her transformed instantly into a large, plump boar.

Harry's eyes widened in amazement, and the students around him reacted similarly. But before they could gasp or applaud, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand again, the boar tumbled forward and morphed into a sleek leopard.

The leopard dashed across the classroom before leaping into the air, where it suddenly erupted into flames, transforming into a blazing ball of fire.

The flames crackled fiercely before exploding into hundreds of fluttering butterflies that filled the room, dancing around the students.

Harry and his classmates were so mesmerized by the sight that they barely noticed Professor McGonagall's next movement. But in an instant, the butterflies began to gather around her, merging into the shape of a massive pelican mid-air.

The pelican swooped down gracefully, landed beside her, spread its wings wide, then, as if unfolding in reverse, slowly reshaped itself back into the wooden podium.

It was nothing short of spectacular.

The young wizards and witches were thrilled by the breathtaking performance. Their eyes shone with admiration, and they immediately wished they could master such magic on the spot, perhaps to turn a nearby chair into a grand statue or, for some mischievous minds, transform an annoying classmate into something far less pleasant.

But Professor McGonagall wasted no time dashing their overenthusiastic hopes.

"Transfiguration is remarkable and intricate," she said, her sharp gaze sweeping over the class, "but it is also the most difficult subject at Hogwarts. I can say without hesitation that if even a fifth of the students in this room manage to complete just the first two steps of what I just demonstrated before graduation, then their seven years will not have been wasted."

Harry swallowed. That didn't sound promising.

Yet, to his surprise, when the lesson actually began, it wasn't as impossible as he had feared.

Professor McGonagall's explanations were incredibly clear and easy to follow. The daunting, complicated theories in the textbook suddenly made sense as she spoke.

Of course, it would have been even better if she hadn't left two entire blackboards filled with notes for them to copy.

As for the practical portion of their first lesson, Harry felt he had done reasonably well, at least until he glanced at Hermione, who sat behind him.

Their task was to turn a wooden matchstick into a metal needle.

According to Professor McGonagall, mastering this alone would cover half of the first-year Transfiguration syllabus.

Transfiguration involved altering both the appearance and properties of an object. The former was relatively simple, but the latter was considered advanced magic, especially for first-year students.

Clearly, Hermione's earlier discussion with Percy had not been in vain. Her matchstick had already taken the shape of a needle, complete with a small hole at the tip for threading, though the material remained wood and was still slightly thicker than a normal needle.

Harry glanced at the matchstick in his own hand. It wasn't quite a needle, but it was better than nothing. After all, most of the other students in class still had ordinary matchsticks, their transformation attempts failing to even remove the match head.

Professor McGonagall reached Hermione first. Seeing the neatly transformed wooden needle, she nodded in approval, and for the first time, a rare smile softened her otherwise stern expression.

"Very well done, Miss Granger. In my thirty-five years of teaching, you are one of the most exceptional students I have seen. Without a doubt, you have earned two points for Gryffindor."

Hermione's face flushed with excitement upon hearing this. She had already learned about the House Points system and the House Cup and knew exactly what this meant.

Professor McGonagall then moved toward Harry. She examined his "matchstick" and nodded once more.

"This is an excellent result for a first lesson. Even your father, James, couldn't have done much better. I believe you could excel in this subject if you put in the effort."

Harry raised an eyebrow, not because McGonagall had mentioned his father, whom he had never met, but because of something else entirely: her age.

Thirty-five years of teaching experience?

That meant that even if she had started teaching immediately after graduation, she would be over fifty years old by now.

To be honest, he wouldn't have guessed it.

Though Professor McGonagall dressed simply and always kept her hair in a tight bun, she didn't look that old. If you didn't focus on the depth in her eyes, it was hard to believe she was over fifty.

"Perhaps wizards aged more slowly? Or maybe Professor McGonagall had some secret to preserving her youth?"

Harry was curious, but not entirely about McGonagall.

His thoughts drifted instead to the beautiful professor he had seen sitting at the staff table during the Opening Feast.

He had no idea how old she was.

"Harry, that was amazing!" Ron exclaimed after class.

During the lesson, if one didn't look closely, Ron's matchstick had barely changed at all.

Still, he wasn't the worst in class, at least his matchstick showed some signs of attempted transfiguration. Neville's, on the other hand, remained completely unchanged.

"It was okay," Harry said, trying to sound modest.

But the wide grin on his face betrayed him, his casual response was far from convincing.

After all, what kid doesn't like being praised?

Of course, if the praise came from a girl.

"Harry, that was incredible!"

Parvati Patil, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall and carrying the faint scent of flowers, turned toward him as she and two other girls passed by. She flashed him a smile, praised him, and then hurried away, giggling with her friends.

Well, that compliment felt much better than Ron's.

"Potter… Potter."

Just as Harry was struggling to suppress his smug expression, a hesitant, almost shy voice sounded beside him.

Harry and Ron turned simultaneously, only to find themselves face to face with a young professor. He had delicate features, but his complexion was deathly pale.

It was Professor Quirrell, full name Quirinus Quirrell, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. He had been seated beside Professor Snape at the staff table during the Opening Feast.

At the time, Harry had been silently cursing Snape under his breath, and later, thanks to Percy and the Weasley twins, he had gathered a general impression of both professors.

If, before today, Harry had felt slightly guilty about badmouthing a teacher, that guilt had vanished the moment his scar started hurting.

But after hearing stories about Snape's past behavior, he no longer felt even a hint of remorse.

One was a bullying psychopath.

The other was a model student turned coward.

That was how Harry had summed up the information he had gathered so far.

The "psychopath" was, of course, Snape. He was notorious for bullying students from the other three Houses, especially Gryffindors.

The "good student turned coward" was Professor Quirrell.

Originally, he had taught Muggle Studies, an elective subject for third-years and above. From what Harry had heard, Quirrell had been a brilliant teacher.

But this year, for some unknown reason, he had suddenly applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Along with this career shift, his personality had drastically changed, transforming him into a nervous wreck.

According to Fred (or was it George?), Quirrell had supposedly encountered something terrifying over the summer.

The twins speculated that it had been a vampire, judging by the overwhelming stench of garlic surrounding him.

Now that Harry was standing closer, he could definitely smell it.

So, according to the twins theory, Professor Quirrell had gone from an excellent teacher to a paranoid coward, all because of a vampire encounter.

And now, the so-called "former good student, current coward" had approached him.

Harry instinctively raised an eyebrow but still greeted him politely.

"Good morning, Professor Quirrell."

"H-hello… h-hello…" Quirrell nodded quickly. His stammer seemed even worse, as if he were incredibly nervous.

"Y-you must w-work hard in class… T-this afternoon… A-also… O-oh!"

"Of course, Professor," Harry replied, keeping his tone respectful.

What else was he supposed to say?

Just then, a cold voice cut through the air.

"Quirrell, what are you doing?"

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