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chapter 113 part 2
The previously lively students fell silent almost at once. The story was good, but how could it compare to a practical lesson?
It was important to remember that sixth-year students would be turning seventeen one by one over the course of the year. In the wizarding world, this was the age of adulthood, meaning they would no longer be bound by the rule prohibiting underage spellcasting off-campus.
But the last leg of the journey is always the hardest. For an underage wizard, this final stretch was the most difficult to endure. They wanted to practically glue themselves to their wands. Missing a single lesson where they could use their wands was so agonizing that they even forgot about being woken up before they'd had enough sleep that morning.
"Alright, don't stand there looking so dejected. We have less than thirty minutes left. Let's just go over the theoretical knowledge required for the next lesson, and I'll leave you with some review homework. If you can hand in a sufficiently excellent essay before the next class, then we can spend the entire period on practical application."
Normally, such a proposal would definitely be met with opposition from the students, but the appeal of an entire class dedicated to practical work was simply too great.
The sixth-year students began listening with an attentiveness second only to the traumatized fifth-years. They even forgot to respond to his questions during the lecture, all of them completely focused on taking notes—just as Professor McGonagall had said, these children who had earned certificates in their Ordinary Wizarding Levels were by no means poor learners.
"Alright, that's all the knowledge you need to master for the next lesson. It's a bit daunting, but we will definitely be doing practical work. Class dismissed. Remember the essay. If anyone comes to the next class without it, I will unfortunately have to have them complete it right here in this classroom."
William clapped his hands, stretched, and sent the sixth-year students off with a smile.
---
"Catching students who stay out all night first thing in the morning—Percy is really going all out. I wonder if he sent them to Mr. Filch. Those kids really have it rough."
William shook his head, deciding it was best not to get involved in the commotion.
But he wasn't the only professor with a class first thing in the morning.
When William reached the staff room, Adams was already sidling over conspiratorially.
"William, do you know what happened this morning?"
"I have a general idea. All the students are listless. A search at five in the morning—if they hadn't found anyone, I bet the students would have cursed the prefects to death."
"Shh—that was the official reason. The search didn't actually start because of students staying out. It's because Filch found dripping bloodstains on the path outside the castle this morning!"
"Ah! Was someone injured?"
William's spirits instantly lifted, the post-class lethargy vanishing in an instant.
'Has the curse arrived? Dammit, why is it targeting students?'
"Keep your voice down!"
Adams frowned, then glanced at the other professors around them before speaking in a secretive whisper.
"So, Mr. Filch started searching the castle like a madman, and then he found Percy in the castle."
"Percy?"
"Yes, Percy. It wasn't even five o'clock. Even though Percy is a prefect, that was way too early. And at that moment, Percy looked completely lost. Filch rushed over and questioned him, but Percy said he hadn't seen anyone strange all night."
"All night? He didn't sleep?"
William asked curiously.
"Are you telling the story or am I?"
Adams raised an eyebrow.
"You are, you are."
"Ahem, Percy said he hadn't slept all night, which was confirmed by several portraits who had been up late playing cards. Then Percy suggested using the excuse of checking for students who were out all night to search the common rooms and avoid causing a panic. That's why those students were investigated."
"Right, and they caught a lot of them."
"Yes, Filch's office is full. But thankfully, no one was hurt."
The more William heard, the more confused he became. If no one was hurt—what about the blood?
"Are you about to ask where the blood went?"
Adams asked mysteriously.
"Yes, where did the blood go?"
"One of Hagrid's roosters died. It was probably bitten to death by some animal. It was chicken blood."
Adams said this in a remarkably calm tone, but by the end of the story, he couldn't help but chuckle himself.
Then the atmosphere in the entire room lightened up—all the professors who had been minding their own business, or at least pretending to, started to laugh.
"Professor William, you're the eighth one to fall for it. Professor Adams went to dig up this news first thing in the morning."
Can't any of these professors be serious?
William rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"William, quickly, find something to do, Professor Singid is coming!"
Adams urged him with a hurried laugh.
William immediately grabbed a book from his usual table and started flipping through it, opening to a page he didn't even recognize.
'A rooster, bitten to death... was it a weasel?'
'Does the wizarding world in Britain even have weasels?'
'Bloodstains dripping all the way to the castle doorway... that doesn't seem like a wild animal at all. Hagrid's hut is so close to the Forbidden Forest. If it was a weasel, why wouldn't it flee into the forest?'
One rooster wasn't a big deal—William himself had considered getting his hands on one.
He had even spoken to Hagrid about the possibility of raising a few chickens at his place so William could try out some recipes. The house-elves were simply incapable of making a few dishes from the East, and William had been craving Big Plate Chicken for a long time.
'If the bloodstains were at the castle entrance, could it have been done by a student?'
'But if it was a student, why would they just kill the rooster and not take it? It's perfectly edible.'
'No, Hagrid's rooster might have been stolen—I need to ask. If it wasn't stolen, then this needs to be investigated. Maybe some misbehaving kids needed chicken blood.'
During this time, William had read many books about using blood to cast dark magic, and his thoughts began to drift in that direction.
'People even play with Ouija boards. It's impossible that no one has tried the rituals from those ridiculous magic books. I need to pay attention.'
An image of the paranormal enthusiasts he had met in his past life floated into William's mind. In the wizarding world, a world where magic was real, there were far more things related to the supernatural.
'I haven't even figured out all this knowledge myself—who knows if those strange magic books will cheat someone out of their soul?'
(end of chapter)
The previously lively students fell silent almost at once. The story was good, but how could it compare to a practical lesson?
It was important to remember that sixth-year students would be turning seventeen one by one over the course of the year. In the wizarding world, this was the age of adulthood, meaning they would no longer be bound by the rule prohibiting underage spellcasting off-campus.
But the last leg of the journey is always the hardest. For an underage wizard, this final stretch was the most difficult to endure. They wanted to practically glue themselves to their wands. Missing a single lesson where they could use their wands was so agonizing that they even forgot about being woken up before they'd had enough sleep that morning.
"Alright, don't stand there looking so dejected. We have less than thirty minutes left. Let's just go over the theoretical knowledge required for the next lesson, and I'll leave you with some review homework. If you can hand in a sufficiently excellent essay before the next class, then we can spend the entire period on practical application."
Normally, such a proposal would definitely be met with opposition from the students, but the appeal of an entire class dedicated to practical work was simply too great.
The sixth-year students began listening with an attentiveness second only to the traumatized fifth-years. They even forgot to respond to his questions during the lecture, all of them completely focused on taking notes—just as Professor McGonagall had said, these children who had earned certificates in their Ordinary Wizarding Levels were by no means poor learners.
"Alright, that's all the knowledge you need to master for the next lesson. It's a bit daunting, but we will definitely be doing practical work. Class dismissed. Remember the essay. If anyone comes to the next class without it, I will unfortunately have to have them complete it right here in this classroom."
William clapped his hands, stretched, and sent the sixth-year students off with a smile.
---
"Catching students who stay out all night first thing in the morning—Percy is really going all out. I wonder if he sent them to Mr. Filch. Those kids really have it rough."
William shook his head, deciding it was best not to get involved in the commotion.
But he wasn't the only professor with a class first thing in the morning.
When William reached the staff room, Adams was already sidling over conspiratorially.
"William, do you know what happened this morning?"
"I have a general idea. All the students are listless. A search at five in the morning—if they hadn't found anyone, I bet the students would have cursed the prefects to death."
"Shh—that was the official reason. The search didn't actually start because of students staying out. It's because Filch found dripping bloodstains on the path outside the castle this morning!"
"Ah! Was someone injured?"
William's spirits instantly lifted, the post-class lethargy vanishing in an instant.
'Has the curse arrived? Dammit, why is it targeting students?'
"Keep your voice down!"
Adams frowned, then glanced at the other professors around them before speaking in a secretive whisper.
"So, Mr. Filch started searching the castle like a madman, and then he found Percy in the castle."
"Percy?"
"Yes, Percy. It wasn't even five o'clock. Even though Percy is a prefect, that was way too early. And at that moment, Percy looked completely lost. Filch rushed over and questioned him, but Percy said he hadn't seen anyone strange all night."
"All night? He didn't sleep?"
William asked curiously.
"Are you telling the story or am I?"
Adams raised an eyebrow.
"You are, you are."
"Ahem, Percy said he hadn't slept all night, which was confirmed by several portraits who had been up late playing cards. Then Percy suggested using the excuse of checking for students who were out all night to search the common rooms and avoid causing a panic. That's why those students were investigated."
"Right, and they caught a lot of them."
"Yes, Filch's office is full. But thankfully, no one was hurt."
The more William heard, the more confused he became. If no one was hurt—what about the blood?
"Are you about to ask where the blood went?"
Adams asked mysteriously.
"Yes, where did the blood go?"
"One of Hagrid's roosters died. It was probably bitten to death by some animal. It was chicken blood."
Adams said this in a remarkably calm tone, but by the end of the story, he couldn't help but chuckle himself.
Then the atmosphere in the entire room lightened up—all the professors who had been minding their own business, or at least pretending to, started to laugh.
"Professor William, you're the eighth one to fall for it. Professor Adams went to dig up this news first thing in the morning."
Can't any of these professors be serious?
William rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"William, quickly, find something to do, Professor Singid is coming!"
Adams urged him with a hurried laugh.
William immediately grabbed a book from his usual table and started flipping through it, opening to a page he didn't even recognize.
'A rooster, bitten to death... was it a weasel?'
'Does the wizarding world in Britain even have weasels?'
'Bloodstains dripping all the way to the castle doorway... that doesn't seem like a wild animal at all. Hagrid's hut is so close to the Forbidden Forest. If it was a weasel, why wouldn't it flee into the forest?'
One rooster wasn't a big deal—William himself had considered getting his hands on one.
He had even spoken to Hagrid about the possibility of raising a few chickens at his place so William could try out some recipes. The house-elves were simply incapable of making a few dishes from the East, and William had been craving Big Plate Chicken for a long time.
'If the bloodstains were at the castle entrance, could it have been done by a student?'
'But if it was a student, why would they just kill the rooster and not take it? It's perfectly edible.'
'No, Hagrid's rooster might have been stolen—I need to ask. If it wasn't stolen, then this needs to be investigated. Maybe some misbehaving kids needed chicken blood.'
During this time, William had read many books about using blood to cast dark magic, and his thoughts began to drift in that direction.
'People even play with Ouija boards. It's impossible that no one has tried the rituals from those ridiculous magic books. I need to pay attention.'
An image of the paranormal enthusiasts he had met in his past life floated into William's mind. In the wizarding world, a world where magic was real, there were far more things related to the supernatural.
'I haven't even figured out all this knowledge myself—who knows if those strange magic books will cheat someone out of their soul?'
(end of chapter)
