---
Chapter 83
Professor McGonagall was in a very bad mood.
No—extremely bad.
Her Transfiguration class had been completely disrupted by that Divination teacher.
From Gryffindor to Hufflepuff, nearly every student who had attended Professor Trelawney's lesson earlier that day was distracted. Even Ravenclaw—normally obsessed with logic and knowledge—had been affected. And now, her current class, Slytherin, was no exception.
Not a single round of applause followed her flawless demonstration of a Transfiguration spell.
Although she appeared stern and composed, Professor McGonagall was still a normal witch—especially when it came to Transfiguration, the subject she took the greatest pride in. Animagus transformation was among the most advanced and respected branches of this discipline. As one of only seven registered Animagi in the twentieth century, her mastery was beyond question.
Yet these students—these young witches and wizards—were utterly captivated by that eccentric woman upstairs. Their minds drifted elsewhere, no matter how precise her instruction.
McGonagall could practically guess what Trelawney had said.
Good omens. Bad omens. Vague predictions that even Muggles would scoff at.
She had raised the issue with Dumbledore more than once during faculty meetings—suggesting that Divination be reconsidered or even removed from the curriculum.
Each time, Dumbledore merely smiled and declined.
In the end, she could only console herself.
If she has truly made even a few accurate prophecies… then perhaps the subject has its place.
Still, her disdain for Divination was an open secret among the staff.
If even Minerva McGonagall—fair and impartial by nature—held academic bias against Divination, then others were far worse. Snape, in particular, likely harbored outright hostility. It was only due to their lack of interaction that no conflict had erupted. Otherwise, he would not have minded taking action against the woman whose prophecy had indirectly led to Lily's death.
"I believe I must remind you of something," Professor McGonagall said sharply, clearing her throat.
The room fell silent.
"Whether it is death or misfortune, these are not matters that can be predicted at will. I would far rather devote time to practical defensive magic than indulge in rambling predictions."
Her expression was severe.
"I rarely speak ill of colleagues," she continued, "but Divination is among the least reliable disciplines in magic. There are very few witches or wizards capable of genuinely foreseeing the future—"
—and unfortunately, that woman is one of them, Draco finished silently.
"Draco Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said suddenly. "Stand and explain the principles of Animagus transformation."
She had noticed his attentiveness throughout the lesson. This was both a test and a reward.
McGonagall was fond of this child—bright, disciplined, and serious. She accepted Dumbledore's explanation from the previous year: almost no one could resist a soul-based curse. Malfoy's image in her mind remained untarnished.
Parents might be troublesome.
Children were innocent.
And no teacher disliked a diligent, intelligent student—
with the exception of Snape and Trelawney.
Draco stood calmly.
"An Animagus is a wizard or witch who can transform into an animal form," he began evenly, "but the transformation is not freely selectable. Each Animagus is bound to a single form."
He continued without pause.
"Unlike the Patronus Charm—where the summoned guardian often reflects one's inner personality—the Animagus form is influenced by physical traits such as body type, as well as personality. Therefore, it is possible, though rare, for a wizard's Animagus form to match their Patronus."
He glanced briefly at the blackboard.
"Due to the fundamental differences between wizard magic and magical creature magic, Animagus transformations are limited to non-magical animals. Attempting to transform into magical creatures—such as phoenixes, dragons, or winged beasts—results in unpredictable and often catastrophic consequences."
Finally, he concluded:
"Because of its extreme difficulty, the practice is tightly regulated by the Ministry of Magic. All Animagi must register their forms with the Office for the Regulation of Magical Abilities. There are only seven registered Animagi in the twentieth century." He paused briefly, then added politely, "Professor McGonagall being one of them."
A rare smile appeared on her face.
"Very good. Ten points to Slytherin," she said approvingly.
Applause filled the classroom—not out of surprise, but respect. Though only in his third year, Draco already carried the authority of a leader among his peers.
Professor McGonagall added further details, and the students gradually refocused. The latter half of the lesson proceeded smoothly, and the sharp displeasure on her face eased.
The bell rang.
Pansy was about to suggest heading to dinner when Draco stopped her.
"I need to ask Professor McGonagall something," he said. "Go ahead—I'll catch up."
She hesitated, staring at the floor.
"It won't take long," he added lightly. "I'll find you soon."
He couldn't quite tell if it was imagination, but since the Dementor incident on the train, Pansy seemed… softer. Almost coquettish.
Looks like my 'training' is working, he thought smugly—completely unaware of the real reason behind her change.
"Alright," she said quietly, nodding.
When the classroom cleared, Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk.
"Yes, Draco? What is it?"
She sighed inwardly. This lesson swap had been sudden—this hour should have belonged to Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures. Otherwise, she would have enjoyed a quiet afternoon in her office.
Before Draco could speak, she added gently, "You are talented—but Animagus study is time-consuming and risky. Outside of very specific situations, it offers limited practical value."
She had seen too many gifted students overestimate its worth.
"It's dangerous," she continued. "And most Animagus forms offer little combat advantage. Many who pursue it do so for… personal reasons."
She thought briefly of the Marauders.
"Professor," Draco interrupted politely, raising his hands, "I have no intention of becoming an Animagus."
That surprised her.
"I only wish to know how to identify one," he said calmly.
He paused, then asked softly—
"And… how to force one back into its original form."
Professor McGonagall's expression changed instantly.