A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

When Harry returned to the common room, most of the students had already left, but he saw Ron and Hermione still there, so he walked over. Ron was staring blankly at the box on his knee, his expression one of shock. Just as Harry was about to speak, Hermione suddenly slammed the book she had been reading upright on the table, making a loud noise.

"Ron—uh, what's wrong, Hermione?"

"Terrible! I've never felt like this before, it's like I'm completely out of control." Hermione said irritably, and Harry looked to Ron for some clues.

"Transfiguration," Ron muttered unhappily.

"Yeah, that's right," Hermione said to Harry, but she didn't explain further. Instead, she took out her wand and pointed it at herself. "Watch closely—my rational mind tells me it's impossible, because I haven't figured out the principles yet, but..."

Harry stared at her, and for a few seconds, he thought Hermione was joking with him, but then his jaw dropped.

Hermione's face began to change. Not in a particularly conspicuous way, but every detail was subtly altered. The lines on her face softened, her eyebrows became neater, tiny imperfections on her cheeks vanished... In short, the knowledge they had learned or not learned in Transfiguration class was perfectly demonstrated.

Hermione grinned at him, and Harry noticed that her slightly protruding front teeth had also shrunk a bit, making her face look especially pleasant, almost like a different person.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed admiringly, "your Transfiguration skills are getting better and better."

Harry was a bit bewildered until Ron muttered something about "Animagus," and then it clicked for him.

"Is the effect so obvious?" he asked in surprise.

According to Sirius, learning to be an Animagus would greatly promote proficiency in Transfiguration.

"Not entirely due to being an Animagus, I already had a foundation," Hermione thought for a moment, saying seriously, "If spells are cast separately, like on eyebrows, teeth, hair, etc... I can do them very well, but putting them together would occasionally cause problems. But now that problem seems to be solved."

"Isn't that good? You're improving," Harry said.

"No, it's not good, because new problems have arisen," Hermione said, conflicted. "I'm not sure how I did it myself. In fact, during the daytime training, I would occasionally have some... instincts, urging me to do something uncertain."

"That sounds scary," Harry said dryly, as he seemed to have experienced something similar that morning, although his was much more exaggerated when he blew up a portion of the Forbidden Forest. "So what are you going to do?"

He remembered Professor Bagshot's words, thinking— even if Professor Bagshot wanted to teach Hermione, they might not get along.

"Of course, I'll study, Harry. I'm going to revisit the Transfiguration textbooks I've read from first to fourth grade," Hermione said confidently, looking at Harry with a determined expression, reminiscent of the times she had confidently provided answers. "Right!" she said, before picking up her books and striding off.

Harry watched her, somewhat puzzled, murmuring to himself, "Do you think Hermione really understands the principles of the magic she knows?" Was this the secret to her being able to effortlessly control her magic?

He looked at Ron, who lowered his head again, his face regaining that incredulous expression. Harry stared at the box on Ron's knee, where some knitted fabric lay on colorful stuffing.

"I've been meaning to ask, what's that thing?"

"Oh, nothing much," Ron said nonchalantly, but Harry could bet he definitely wanted to ask this question. "It's a gift from Fred and George, they actually remembered my birthday, which surprised me," he said.

Harry leaned in and saw that the box contained a pair of gloves, especially thickened at the fingertips, wrapped in several rounds of red yarn, giving the appearance of some kind of frog's webbed feet.

It was quite in line with Fred and George's personalities.

Harry imagined Ron strolling around wearing frog gloves, feeling cheerful. But when Ron took the gloves out of the stuffing, Harry realized he was mistaken.

This birthday gift was even more exciting than he had imagined. The fingertips of the gloves were ten delicate little heads of figures. Ron put on the gloves and stared at them for a few seconds before showing them to Harry in a daze. Harry's gaze fell on the only odd one among the ten fingers: the hair on the head of the figure at the left thumb was not red, but black.

"Is that me?" Harry asked in amazement, staring for a while without seeing any resemblance to himself, just guessing based on the colors.

"Yes," Ron said, wiggling his left thumb, and the little figure on the glove looked like it was dancing, swaying left and right. "This is Ginny." He gestured with his right thumb, and Harry could barely see a shadow of Ginny on the long hair of the little figure.

He looked at the other fingers and vaguely recognized members of the Weasley family.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy... Harry was half moved and half jealous, thinking greedily that it would be great if this were his gift, but the fact that Fred and George had thought to include him filled him with warmth.

"Check this out! Fred and George added a new feature," Ron said, bending his left thumb—representing Harry's figure—and a voice suddenly screamed:

"Snape, Snape, Severus Snape, greasy bat."

Harry was startled, looking around nervously. This voice was eight or nine percent similar to his, and for a moment he thought it was himself speaking, but after the shock passed, he knew it was Fred and George's mischief. Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"What do you think?" Ron asked, grinning at him, seeming quite satisfied with the effect.

"I think you should show Snape," Harry said calmly.

"Oh—" Ron pouted, deciding not to take the bait, "Look at Ginny—Fred and George didn't tell me exactly what it was, they made me try it out myself when I got back, but judging by their personalities—" He bent his right thumb.

A new voice appeared—

"I love flying brooms! I love Harry Potter!"

The excited voice, eight or nine percent similar to Ginny's, echoed in the common room.

Harry and Ron stared at each other, exchanging glances. "Oh," Ron said softly, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, "Let's try Fred and George again, it probably won't be anything good, which is in line with—" He raised an eyebrow and raised two middle fingers to Harry.

The little figures on the two fingers made a tipping motion, and this time the voice that came out was the most like themselves, "Fred (George) sends his regards and wishes you a happy life." Harry could almost imagine the Weasley twins standing in front of him, grinning mischievously.

"How about that, mate? It's not me flipping you off, I guess that's how Fred and George see themselves." Ron said defensively, but Harry looked admiring, "Brilliant."

The next morning, during breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione's bag seemed even bulkier, and she suddenly asked, "Oh, Harry— I haven't asked you yet, how are Professor Dumbledore's classes, any new developments?"

"Met quite a few friends he made during his school days," Harry muttered, pressing the mandrake leaf under his tongue and sipping pumpkin porridge, he was already quite adept at this routine.

At that moment, the Creevey brothers passed by them, greeting them friendly, then circled around and sat with their friends.

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