The Boy Who Never Was - A Harry Potter Fanfic

The morning continued in a blur of bustling students, hurried conversations, and the lingering feeling that I had possibly ruined Snape's entire opinion of Harry Potter forever. Not that I was complaining.

Harry had gone back to the common room to grab his Transfiguration textbook, leaving Hermione and me to make our way to class together. Being the eager academic she was—and me, being the mischief magnet I was—we decided to be the first ones there. Hermione wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to see if I could catch Professor McGonagall off guard. Win-win.

As we stepped into the Transfiguration classroom, I immediately noticed something unusual.

There was a cat sitting on McGonagall's desk, its amber eyes focused intently on a piece of parchment as though it were actually reading. Its tail flicked in irritation, or perhaps deep contemplation.

I squinted. "I think that cat is smarter than Ron."

Hermione shot me a disapproving look. "That's Professor McGonagall's cat."

I nodded sagely. "So definitely smarter than Ron."

Ignoring me, Hermione approached the desk, gazing at the feline with wonder. "It's so well-behaved," she whispered, reaching out a tentative hand.

Now, I had dealt with many cats in my time—most notably, the menacing Mrs. Norris, Filch's demonic furball. And I had prepared accordingly.

With a smirk, I pulled out a small bag from my pocket.

Hermione frowned. "Why do you have catnip?"

I tossed the bag lightly in the air. "Emergency peace offering. Mrs. Norris and I have a complicated relationship. She sees me, she hisses. I see her, I run. You never know when a strategic bribe could save your life."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she still took a pinch of the catnip and sprinkled it in front of the feline. The reaction was immediate.

The cat sniffed the herb delicately, then froze. Its pupils dilated to the size of Knuts before it flopped onto its side, rubbing its face all over the desk with a dreamy expression.

I blinked. "I think we broke it."

Hermione giggled as the cat kicked at the air like it had just ascended to another plane of existence. "I don't think she's ever had catnip before."

I grinned and gave the cat an experimental ear scratch. "Well, welcome to the high life, Professor Whiskers."

We spent the next twenty minutes petting the blissed-out feline, watching as it twitched in euphoria, occasionally flopping dramatically onto its back. It was, quite frankly, the best use of time before class started.

When students began to trickle in, Hermione and I bid farewell to our new furry friend and moved to the front of the classroom. The cat remained on the desk, still rubbing its face against the catnip-covered parchment like it was making a life decision.

As the final students arrived, Harry and Ron stumbled in, looking slightly disheveled. Ron plopped into his seat with a sigh of relief. "Blimey, we actually made it before McGonagall. Lucky, that."

Fate had other plans.

At that moment, the cat that had been enjoying its moment of transcendence suddenly straightened, gave a final twitch, and in an instant, transformed into Professor McGonagall.

Dead silence.

The class collectively inhaled.

I subtly reached over and slid my bag of catnip out of sight.

McGonagall, now back in her human form, adjusted her robes with a level of dignity that should have been impossible for someone who had just been rolling around on their desk. However, I couldn't help but notice the slight twitch in her left eye. Her expression was calm, but there was something... off.

It took Hermione approximately three seconds to realize the horrifying truth. She stiffened beside me, her face going pale. "Oh no," she whispered. "We drugged the professor."

McGonagall gave her usual crisp nod before beginning her lesson, but every now and then, a slight twitch ran through her fingers or her nose wrinkled as if she were resisting the urge to purr.

I avoided eye contact.

Hermione avoided breathing.

Ron and Harry just looked confused.

"Transfiguration," McGonagall began, her voice slightly slower than usual, "is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will learn at Hogwarts."

Her fingers twitched. She frowned at them.

"It requires absolute concentration, precision, and discipline."

She absently rubbed her face, then stopped herself. She frowned again.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

The lesson continued with McGonagall attempting to demonstrate a basic transfiguration spell on a matchstick, but for some reason, she kept staring at it like it had personally offended her.

Ron, still oblivious, leaned over to whisper, "Is it just me, or does McGonagall look kinda... off?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe she didn't get enough sleep?"

I coughed to cover up a snort. Hermione looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

By some miracle, the class ended without further incident. As the students filed out, Hermione and I hung back, exchanging a look before approaching McGonagall's desk.

She raised an eyebrow at us, looking somewhat back to normal. The twitching had lessened.

"Professor," Hermione began hesitantly, "we just wanted to apologize."

McGonagall folded her hands. "Apologize?"

I cleared my throat. "For, uh... the catnip."

A long pause.

McGonagall stared at us. Then, to my utter shock, she let out a soft sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I see."

We both waited, nervous.

Finally, she nodded. "I suppose I can understand how this happened." She gave me a pointed look. "Why, exactly, did you have catnip in the first place?"

"Bribery," I answered without hesitation. "For Mrs. Norris."

McGonagall actually blinked. "That is... surprisingly practical."

Hermione looked like she wanted to sink into the floor again.

The professor exhaled, composing herself. "While I appreciate your... enthusiasm for feline welfare, I must ask that you do not bring catnip into my classroom again."

I held up my hands. "Consider it done."

McGonagall gave us both a long look before shaking her head. "This is not how I expected my morning to go."

Hermione mumbled another apology, and we made a hasty exit before McGonagall changed her mind and assigned us some sort of extra essay on 'Why We Do Not Drug Our Professors.'

As we stepped into the corridor, I nudged Hermione. "On the bright side, at least she wasn't mad."

Hermione groaned. "She was twitching, Sky. Twitching."

I grinned. "And now we know what happens when you give an Animagus catnip. That's valuable knowledge."

Hermione gave me a long-suffering look. "You're impossible."

"And yet, somehow, you still hang around me."

She huffed, but there was the slightest twitch of amusement on her lips.

As we walked to our next class, I made a mental note: Always be prepared. Always have a backup plan. And maybe—just maybe—never mess with Transfiguration class again.