The second class of the day was Transfiguration, and even among the most bookish students, there was an air of reverence. Rumor had it that their professor could turn into a cat. That alone had made Dora nearly vibrate with anticipation all morning.
"Do you think she really can?" Iris whispered as they entered the bright, clean classroom with high windows and desks arranged in neat rows.
"Oh, absolutely," Hadrian said. "She's a legend. Animagus. Strict, but fair."
As they found their seats near the front, Dora leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "I've always wanted to meet a cat professor. Maybe I'll adopt her."
Before Hadrian could respond, a very proper-looking tabby cat with square markings around its eyes was sitting primly on the teacher's desk, tail curled neatly around its paws. It regarded the class with silent dignity.
Dora's eyes lit up like Christmas morning.
"Oh no," Hadrian muttered. "She's doing the thing."
Without hesitation, Dora stood up from her desk, walked straight to the cat, and dramatically dropped to one knee.
"Meow greetings, esteemed feline professor," she said, bowing her head. Then, with a mischievous grin, her face shifted — her ears becoming fuzzy and slightly pointed on top, her nose a touch more feline, and even whisker-like markings appearing on her cheeks.
The class went silent.
Dora sat on her heels, made a few very earnest meow sounds, and tilted her head as if awaiting a reply.
The cat blinked once. Twice.
Then in a smooth shimmer of transformation, the cat stretched upward into a stern-looking woman in emerald robes and a deep scowl — though the sharpness of her features was unmistakably amused beneath the surface.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Miss Tonks," she said, her Scottish accent crisp. "While I do not normally encourage improvisational communication with household animals in my classroom…"
Dora immediately straightened up, her face returning to normal as she raised both eyebrows innocently.
"…I will award Hufflepuff one house point," McGonagall continued, "for demonstrating what could also be described as an instinctive application of transfigurative mimicry — a most rare and promising talent."
Gasps and chuckles rippled through the classroom.
Dora beamed and returned to her seat. "That's me. Rare and promising."
Hadrian just shook his head, grinning. "You're going to give Professor McGonagall a headache."
"I gave us a house point," Dora corrected.
Iris leaned over, whispering, "I can't believe she actually meowed at our teacher."
"Technically she meowed at a cat," Hadrian said. "Totally different."
McGonagall tapped her wand on the desk and the class quieted down immediately.
"For your first lesson," she said, "we shall begin with something deceptively simple — turning a matchstick into a needle. But as you will soon learn, Transfiguration is no trivial branch of magic. Precision, intent, and focus are key. Wandwork alone will not save you."
The matchsticks appeared on their desks with a flick of her wand, and the lesson began in earnest.
Hadrian glanced sideways at his sister and Dora — one eager, the other mischievous — and smiled.