HP: Wizardry’s a Hassle, Wand in the Right Hand, Gun in the Left

 

Fear? Impossible. That was mere exaggeration - how could the greatest wizard of the century, a man who had lived for over a century, have wasted all those years of experience?

Yet, it was truly astonishing.

"So Professor Snape was outmaneuvered after all," Dumbledore mused, his blue eyes twinkling thoughtfully.

Glenn had shown nothing like this during his previous duel with Snape, where he had merely engaged in conventional spell combat.

Watching as the dying giant spider's screams attracted a swarm of Acromantulas, and observing Glenn's distant figure making a strategic withdrawal, Dumbledore's expression grew increasingly complex.

"Clever little devil," he thought, stroking his silver beard. "Hiding such abilities from us, and with such a ruthless streak too. If I didn't know there was still love in that heart of his, still people he truly cares for... well, I might have had to confine him to the Forbidden Forest right here and now."

Dumbledore's fingers thoughtfully traced through his long beard as he contemplated.

"Perhaps I should enlist the professors' help in young Miss Granger's cause? Get our young friend properly anchored in the boat of love?"

In Dumbledore's mental assessment, Glenn's threat (or rather, nuisance) level quietly escalated several notches.

...

"You crafty old fox," Glenn thought, safely back in the castle. "Actually tailing me like that. If you hadn't leaked that tiny bit of emotional fluctuation at the end, I would never have detected you."

Glenn had burst from the Forbidden Forest with every enhancement spell he knew activated. He truly hadn't expected Dumbledore, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, to have such an peculiar habit of trailing first-year students.

"Well, he isn't called the greatest wizard of the century for nothing - his concealment was absolutely impeccable," Glenn reflected ruefully. Throughout the entire journey, he hadn't detected the slightest trace of the headmaster's presence.

"Disillusioned and floating in the air, no wonder my staff couldn't sense anything on the ground."

It was only in that final moment, when Dumbledore's surprise had become evident, that Glenn had caught the briefest glimpse of that penetrating gaze.

Glenn's intuition had saved his life countless times in his previous existence, and even more so in this magic-oriented world. Yet even with such finely-honed senses, he could only detect Dumbledore when the headmaster's emotions slightly wavered.

He was nothing like the frail old man the Daily Prophet so often portrayed.

"Old Dumbledore, keeping secrets, are we?" Glenn's lips curled slightly, suppressing a shiver. He became even more determined to learn the headmaster's concealment techniques - properly and officially, of course.

Come then, let this be a mutual exchange of knowledge!

With such techniques, what target would be beyond reach?

He could even outmaneuver Voldemort himself!

Shaking off these thoughts that clearly didn't suit his current persona, Glenn hurriedly showered, donned his pajamas, and settled into his meditation posture on the bed.

Monday morning, seven forty - Glenn opened his eyes precisely on schedule and began his morning routine.

He had arranged to meet Hermione in the Great Hall at eight for breakfast, followed by a morning walk before their first class at nine.

After a quick but thorough wash-up, Glenn, immaculately dressed in his school robes, left the Slytherin common room and headed upstairs to the Great Hall. Shortly after taking his seat, Hermione descended the stairs.

"Good morning," Glenn greeted, settling into an empty spot at the Gryffindor table. Hermione handed him her bag and sat beside him, her eyes bright with excitement. "Good morning! Our first class today is Transfiguration - I can hardly wait to meet Professor McGonagall properly!"

The young girl's enthusiasm was palpable, understandable since she hadn't seen her favorite professor in person for a year, their interaction limited to correspondence and academic queries.

Hermione served breakfast, placing a portion before Glenn while chattering animatedly about her experiences from the previous night, including detailed descriptions of the dormitory.

However, when the topic turned to her roommates, her excitement dimmed noticeably.

"I offered to help them preview this year's material," she said softly, "but they didn't want to study with me." Her voice carried the hurt of rejection - she had only wanted to help and make friends, but instead found herself facing the familiar specter of isolation.

She had just wanted to belong.

"Not everyone shares our enthusiasm for advance study," Glenn said gently. "I'm not exactly an expert on social interactions myself, but perhaps try a different approach? Observe what they talk about, find common interests. Sometimes friendship starts with simply sharing conversations rather than study sessions."

Though not entirely confident in his social advice, he suggested that Hermione might try "mirroring" as a way to integrate into the group.

While this method might create only an initial bridge, he trusted in Hermione's intelligence to build genuine connections from there.

He desperately wanted to prevent her from experiencing the isolation she'd known in her previous schools - such loneliness could leave deep scars on a young soul.

As for himself, being Muggle-born had already marked him for isolation among the Slytherins, but that was of little consequence to him.

Glenn remained indifferent to their rejection.

Hermione considered his words thoughtfully, her expression brightening slightly.

They finished their breakfast at a leisurely pace, walked together to the Transfiguration classroom, and settled in to review their textbooks.

The classroom stood empty, with nearly half an hour until the bell.

Soon, measured footsteps approached, and Professor McGonagall's voice rang out behind them, "Good morning, you two."

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione exclaimed, dropping her book in excitement as she turned.

"Hermione, and Glenn - it's been quite some time," Professor McGonagall smiled warmly, entering with her teaching materials.

"Good morning, Professor," Glenn acknowledged with a respectful nod.

The young witch eagerly retrieved a notebook from Glenn's bag and was about to rush forward with questions when McGonagall raised a gentle hand to stop her. Seeing Hermione's crestfallen expression, McGonagall's smile softened. "We'll have plenty of time for your questions after class, dear. For now, I have something special prepared for your first lesson. But remember - this is our little secret."

To Hermione's absolute delight, Professor McGonagall executed a graceful twirl in mid-air, transforming mid-motion into an elegant tabby cat that landed lightly on the floor.

Glenn watched in amazement as the feline McGonagall leaped onto the desk. Never had he encountered a spell capable of such complete human-to-animal transformation.

Hermione, with her passion for Transfiguration and encyclopedic knowledge of the magical world, recovered quickly from her initial shock. "An Animagus!" she whispered excitedly. "Yes, Professor McGonagall is a registered Animagus!"

Noting Glenn's puzzled expression, Hermione launched into a rapid explanation: "The Animagus transformation is one of the most advanced forms of Transfiguration. It allows a witch or wizard to transform into a specific non-magical animal at will. Usually, each person can only achieve one animal form. Currently, there are only seven registered Animagi in Britain, and Professor McGonagall is one of them!"

Glenn absorbed this information thoughtfully.

Such an ability would be invaluable for surveillance and intelligence gathering.

He made a mental note to research this thoroughly in the library, study it in detail.

As for official registration?

What registration?

Official documentation was definitely not in his plans.

Clearly, he would need to dedicate even more effort to mastering Transfiguration.

He gently pressed a finger to Hermione's lips, stemming her enthusiastic lecture about famous Animagi and their forms - he'd noticed other students approaching the classroom.

Professor McGonagall had requested their discretion, likely wanting to surprise their classmates with an unforgettable first lesson.

Hermione froze momentarily in confusion.

What? Why had Glenn...?

Then understanding dawned, but she still swatted his hand away with mock indignation. Though she understood his warning, she turned away with an exaggerated "hmph," pretending to bury herself in her book while fighting a smile.

As nine o'clock approached, students filtered into the classroom, their excited chatter filling the air as they wondered about their absent professor.

The Slytherin students cast dark looks at Glenn, seated among the Gryffindors - the one they had collectively decided to shun.

Just as Harry and Ron burst through the door, breathing heavily from their rush to avoid being late, Professor McGonagall made her dramatic feline entrance. The transformation from cat to professor left the young witches and wizards spellbound, their fascination with magic instantly heightened.

"Transfiguration," she declared, her stern gaze sweeping the classroom, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

With that commanding pronouncement, the first-years' magical education truly began.