Harry didn't need the hat to show him the way.

It might sound a little perverted - he remembered Percy's scent and could find the Gryffindor common room by following it.

Ron and the others are still waiting for Harry to come back.

"Harry, go find Dumbledore..." Ron went over to him, but before he could finish his words, he saw the hat on Harry's waist and was shocked. "Oh, no, you went to steal the Sorting Hat?"

"Yes, I borrowed it." Harry corrected Ron's mistake seriously.

The Sorting Hat grumbled, "Harry, you're a good boy, but can we please agree not to put me upside down on my head?"

"And hats are meant to be worn. I'm a wizard's hat, and you're a wizard. We're a good match."

Harry shook his head and said firmly, "No, it's a little inconvenient to wear it on your head. It will be more convenient this way."

The Sorting Hat was startled and said unhappily: "I think you are treating me as a sheath."

"A scabbard is no better than a hat?" Harry asked rhetorically.

The Sorting Hat spat. If it could spit, it would have spit all over Harry's face. "Bah! Of course a hat is better than a scabbard!"

"You're way worse than a Gryffindor, you brat!"

It cursed and was taken into the dormitory by Harry.

After a day of running around, Harry was a little tired and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, he woke up before daybreak, ran around the castle twice, and took the sword of Gryffindor with him to practice swordplay against a tree stump.

After having breakfast in the hall, I returned to the dormitory, woke up the other roommates, and went to class with them.

Harry was excited about the classes on the first day of school, September 2nd, which was a Monday.

History of Magic in the morning, Herbology in the afternoon.

History of Magic inevitably disappoints many freshmen. Professor Binns is a ghost who reads the textbook in the hoarse, cold and ruthless voice unique to ghosts, and occasionally adds some opinions out of the blue.

Most people fell asleep after listening to it.

Only Harry and Hermione were serious.

What the centenarians say always makes sense - ghosts can be considered another form of centenarians.

Herbology is much more interesting.

The professor was the head of Hufflepuff house, a short, plump lady named Sprout. She looked ordinary, even a little perfunctory, but she had a deep knowledge of Herbology, and could answer all the questions raised by Harry in a simple and easy-to-understand way.

The course ends at three o'clock.

Harry kept asking her questions until four o'clock - the reason why he only asked for an hour was mainly because the senior students had to attend classes, otherwise Harry could have continued to ask questions.

He shamelessly wanted to sneak into the class.

Sprout dismissed him with "five points for Gryffindor". She liked this hardworking and smart little lion, but the senior courses were a bit dangerous and she didn't dare to let Harry participate.

There are two new classes on Tuesday - Charms and Transfiguration.

The professor of Charms was Professor Flitwick, who was of goblin descent. He taught them magic theory for an entire class.

Wait until the get out of class is over.

Most of the students hurriedly packed their bags and rushed to the Transfiguration classroom.

Harry stayed.

Flitwick looked at him with great joy, and asked enthusiastically and eagerly, "I heard from Professor Sprout and Professor Binns that you are a little wizard who loves to ask questions. You really should come to Ravenclaw."

"Did you encounter any problems?"

Harry nodded. "I heard from Hagrid that you have goblin blood, so do you know any master blacksmiths?"

Flitwick was startled, his mind tangled, and he asked dryly, "So you're not asking me questions about spells?"

"I don't have time today. I have a Transfiguration class later." Harry said expressionlessly.

Flitwick was a little disappointed: "Oh, okay."

"I do know a master forger, but goblins... have some personality issues. Although they have great skills, they are very greedy."

"Professor, could you please help me contact them?" Harry took off the Sorting Hat on his waist and took out a bag of Galleons from it. "This is your reward."

Flitwick's expression softened and he shook his head: "It is the professor's duty to help students."

"Besides, you are very good. Albus told me that you seem to have mastered a new kind of spell. If you have time on Friday afternoon..."

"Saturday is better. If you have time on Saturday, you can come to my office."

Harry put the Galleons on the table and turned away. "Thank you, Professor!"

Others can say no, but you cannot not give.

Flitwick shook his head, waved his wand, and the bag of money flew immediately into the hat.

The Sorting Hat made two "pooh-pooh" sounds and yelled, "Hey! Harry is fine, but Filius, you also treat me like a pocket. That's enough!"

"I am the Hat, the Great Gryffindor Hat!"

The first-year students don't know the way around very well.

The stairs at Hogwarts were problematic - like a maze that changed its path at any moment.

Fortunately, Ron followed Harry, and except for a slight delay due to the stairs, the journey was relatively smooth.

They were the first to arrive at the Transfiguration classroom.

"Harry, you're really good at finding your way around." Ron envied this ability. The ever-changing Hogwarts was fun at first, but once the novelty wore off, it became a headache. "If I were alone, I'd probably still be wandering around on the road now."

Harry said nothing, staring at the cat on the podium.

"Why is there a cat here?" Ron followed his gaze and muttered in confusion, "Professor McGonagall's pet?"

"Wait, Harry!" He suddenly sounded surprised.

"Look at the pattern on its face. Does it look like Professor McGonagall's glasses?"

Harry walked over, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, turned up its ears, and examined it. "It's not a resemblance, this cat is Professor McGonagall."

I was amazed at the hair and structure...

Is this cat Professor McGonagall?

Ron was stunned by this sentence. He recalled that his parents had mentioned that Professor McGonagall was a master of Transfiguration and one of the seven Animagus registered with the Ministry of Magic.

A tabby cat.

Oh no!

Ron's face turned pale, his eyes widened, he screamed and grabbed Harry's hand.

"Harry, stop it, what are you doing!"

He couldn't stop Harry, and the young witcher still insisted on checking the tabby cat's claws, bones, and tail...

But his exclamation finally made the tabby cat in Harry's hand react. It struggled to the ground and turned into an old woman in a green dress, their Gryffindor Head of House and Transfiguration Professor - McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, have you recognized me a long time ago?" McGonagall narrowed her eyes and spoke in a serious tone.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Then you..." Mag's tone became more serious.

Harry said sincerely, "I'm just curious. The professor's Animagus doesn't have any magical smell. If it weren't for the professor's smell, I would have even mistaken it for an ordinary cat."

"I just checked it and it's no different from a normal cat. Its spine, muscles, and claws can all be popped out."

If you haven't contacted Mag beforehand.

No one would be on guard against such a cute little kitty.

McGonagall's tone did not change: "Animagus is a transfiguration that allows people to truly transform into a certain type of animal. In fact, it is very dangerous. Some immature users may even become confused and think that they have really turned into an animal."

"If you are interested in it, maybe you can try this spell when you are in fifth or sixth grade, or even earlier."

Harry nodded: "Thank you for your advice, Professor McGonagall."

"I have another question." Mag's expression did not ease at all, and even became more serious, "Do I smell strong?"

Harry shook his head: "No, you don't have any smell, it's just that my senses are more acute and I can detect smells that ordinary people can't detect."

McGonagall's expression relaxed a little and she looked at Ron.

Ron was stunned. When he saw the gaze, he nodded hurriedly.

"Really? That's good." McGonagall exhaled, "Mr. Potter, I forgive you this time, but next time you must remember that even if you are curious, you cannot touch the professor."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said obediently.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" the hat suddenly interrupted and shouted.

Ron was so scared that his face turned pale and he looked at the Sorting Hat in panic.

Professor McGonagall was becoming murderous.

"Hey, Minerva, don't be angry, I was just joking." The Sorting Hat shook and explained, "I'm just a hat, I don't have the authority to deduct points."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

This frightened him so much that he actually thought Harry was going to become the sinner of Gryffindor.

"You Gryffindors are always like this." The Sorting Hat grumbled, "Either you have too much humor, or you don't understand humor at all."

"Why can't you be like Albus and have just the right amount of humor?"

Harry and Ron found a place to sit.

Professor McGonagall did not turn into a tabby cat again. She stood solemnly beside the desk and secretly threw several bullets at herself to "clean up" while the two little wizards were not paying attention.

Other students arrived one after another. Transfiguration is also a very interesting course.

It's just a little more difficult.

After teaching them the theory of magic, Professor McGonagall gave each of them a match and asked them to try to turn the match into a needle.

Until the end of the course.

Only Harry and Hermione were able to change the matches. Harry completely transformed the match into a needle, while Hermione failed and only produced the head of a needle, with the tail still being the match stick.

This brought a smile to Professor McGonagall's face, and she confidently and naturally added five points to Gryffindor - three points for Harry and two points for Hermione.

Wednesday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was disappointing for Harry.

Professor Quirrell no longer had that strange pain in his scar, but... he was just so untalented. He stuttered and talked incoherently, and his description of the Dark Arts was not even as useful as reading a book directly.

It was just a ghoul, he couldn't draw a standard structural diagram, nor could he explain its shortcomings clearly. He stammered and talked about some coping methods, which made Harry frown.

Light a fire, make a loud noise, or throw a piece of rotten meat.

There was not even any mention of an effective spell or targeted potion.

Is this to expel dark magical creatures?

Are you teaching how to raise a pet?

Ron actually agreed with what Professor Quirrell said - he had a ghoul at home, and his mother used this method to deal with it. His family really treated the ghoul as a pet.

Thursday is still Transfiguration and Charms class.

Harry finally satisfied Flitwick and asked him many questions after class, and even almost missed the next grade's classes.