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Chapter 136: The Good Times End When I Meet a Weasley
William had no intention of inciting students to cause trouble in the castle for personal gain.
He had only heard of such manipulative tactics, but he had no practical experience, nor did he have the desire to engage in them.
He was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, not a politics professor—
"So, you're planning a protest?"
William leaned his arms on the lectern, his body angled forward, and asked with a smile.
The students below fell silent. The sixth-year students were not as aggressive as the almost-graduating seventh-year veterans. Without a seventh-year student to lead the way, no one really volunteered to play the protest game.
'Hmm, no money, no goal, no demands. Protest—why am I even thinking about that?'
"If you're not planning to protest, ladies and gentlemen, we should begin our class. You are already quite late. If we don't hurry up, I'm afraid I'll have to double the homework."
It was unclear if his last sentence had an effect, but the students' attention immediately focused, no longer dwelling on their confiscated books.
"Very good. The focus of this lesson is the use of nonverbal spells."
William pulled out his wand and demonstrated—without uttering any spell, the chalk began to write furiously on the blackboard under his wand's command.
Though it felt a bit like learning on the fly, William's nonverbal spellcasting was indeed quite good at this moment.
"Class," he clapped his hands, drawing their attention from the chalk back to him, "the theory in the book is a bit brief. I plan to add a little more, which, of course, might be a bit cumbersome for you."
"After all," William said with a smile, "you practically completed your O.W.L. exams through self-study."
The students below chuckled—though some of them had only gotten into the advanced class because William had gone easy on them, being able to pass the exam despite professors being replaced annually and most not completing their terms was something to be proud of in every way.
After quickly adding some content that might make it easier to understand, William observed the students' reactions while rapidly making marks on his lesson plan with his wand.
He wasn't only planning to teach this one batch of students. He couldn't always assume that students had astonishing comprehension abilities, able to grasp the true meaning of nonverbal spells from the simple words in their textbooks, could he?
"Mastering nonverbal spells has always been a recognized difficulty—in fact, in practical application, you might even find nonverbal spells to be nothing special, or even that they hinder the normal effectiveness of spells."
Closing his lesson plan, William began to share his personal insights on nonverbal spells.
"As you should know, a standard spell is composed of sufficient magical power, a standard incantation, clear consciousness, and a standard gesture."
"For beginner spells, a slight deviation can even cause a spell to undergo miraculous changes, or even harm the caster. But nonverbal spells, without even using an incantation, can ensure that the spell doesn't deviate at all."
"Let's discuss this. Why does this happen? No need to stand up, just speak from your seats—we don't need the standard answer from the textbook. Just briefly discuss other possibilities you can think of."
William spread his hands, indicating that the students could speak.
"Is it a matter of spell proficiency?"
"Hmm, that makes sense. Anything else?"
"Understanding of the spell's effects?"
"That also makes sense."
...
"Does it have to do with the spell's tendency, Professor?"
"Interesting insight. Three points to Ravenclaw. Tell me more about what you're thinking."
'I hadn't thought of that. I'll make a note of it.'
William quietly made a note on his lesson plan—among the published books, the textbook content for the sixth-year advanced class was quite sparse. He wasn't sure if it was because they believed advanced class students could easily understand the textbook content or if it was a matter of knowledge monopolization.
'Probably both. After all, this is a country that would include Latin in its civil service exams.'
However, the library's Restricted Section was open by default to professors, so William didn't have to worry about not finding reference books. The students' discussions were, at most, supplementary.
---
"All right, class dismissed."
The end-of-class bell interrupted the students' lively discussion and also awakened William's forcefully suppressed curiosity.
"An essay on your insights regarding nonverbal spells. Although you've certainly encountered nonverbal spells in other subjects, unfortunately, this one is for me. Write it well, or it will be sent back for a rewrite."
After this bucket of cold water dampened the students' momentum to continue discussing, William quickly walked towards the classroom door.
"Oh, and don't bring your textbooks next class. We'll have a double period of practical work. Remember to bring your essays."
Stepping out of the classroom, William threw a parting shot to the students inside.
Ignoring the cheering from behind him, William suppressed the urge to run, quickening his pace towards Filch's Office.
'It's been a week. If nothing goes wrong, the culprit book should have been found by now. Will it be a cultist text or a ritual book?'
As he made such conjectures, he began to consider the protective magic he would need to use later.
'Right, this incident would be a good opportunity to prepare a lesson on protection against evil rituals. The sixth and seventh years could take it, while the fifth years continue with their previous arrangements.'
His mood was exceptionally good now—the matter that had troubled him for a week finally saw a glimmer of resolution, making him unusually relaxed.
Just as he was about to hum a little tune, a flash of fiery red appeared before his eyes.
'A Weasley again?'
The good day was over.
Like a needle pricking a balloon, William's earlier good mood vanished into thin air.
Although the Weasley before him wasn't the one who had caused trouble at his party, that fiery red hair made him unable to resist making the connection.
'This is Professor McGonagall's office. What happened to her?'
"Ah! Professor!"
The moment he looked at the girl, the little girl named Ginny bristled like a startled cat.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing, Professor, nothing—"
She defended herself frantically, which made William suspicious—students who made mistakes usually acted this way.
William stopped short and glanced at the room.
It was Professor McGonagall's office.
'Could she be trying to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office?'
This strange thought popped into William's mind.
Theoretically, no Gryffindor had dared to do such a thing so far, but the Weasleys—it wasn't that William was biased against them, but each one was naughtier than the last.
Just as he was pondering which school rule applied to the current scene, the office door opened, and Professor McGonagall walked out.
"Professor! I'm reporting Percy! He's dating a Ravenclaw Prefect!~"
(end of chapter)
William had no intention of inciting students to cause trouble in the castle for personal gain.
He had only heard of such manipulative tactics, but he had no practical experience, nor did he have the desire to engage in them.
He was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, not a politics professor—
"So, you're planning a protest?"
William leaned his arms on the lectern, his body angled forward, and asked with a smile.
The students below fell silent. The sixth-year students were not as aggressive as the almost-graduating seventh-year veterans. Without a seventh-year student to lead the way, no one really volunteered to play the protest game.
'Hmm, no money, no goal, no demands. Protest—why am I even thinking about that?'
"If you're not planning to protest, ladies and gentlemen, we should begin our class. You are already quite late. If we don't hurry up, I'm afraid I'll have to double the homework."
It was unclear if his last sentence had an effect, but the students' attention immediately focused, no longer dwelling on their confiscated books.
"Very good. The focus of this lesson is the use of nonverbal spells."
William pulled out his wand and demonstrated—without uttering any spell, the chalk began to write furiously on the blackboard under his wand's command.
Though it felt a bit like learning on the fly, William's nonverbal spellcasting was indeed quite good at this moment.
"Class," he clapped his hands, drawing their attention from the chalk back to him, "the theory in the book is a bit brief. I plan to add a little more, which, of course, might be a bit cumbersome for you."
"After all," William said with a smile, "you practically completed your O.W.L. exams through self-study."
The students below chuckled—though some of them had only gotten into the advanced class because William had gone easy on them, being able to pass the exam despite professors being replaced annually and most not completing their terms was something to be proud of in every way.
After quickly adding some content that might make it easier to understand, William observed the students' reactions while rapidly making marks on his lesson plan with his wand.
He wasn't only planning to teach this one batch of students. He couldn't always assume that students had astonishing comprehension abilities, able to grasp the true meaning of nonverbal spells from the simple words in their textbooks, could he?
"Mastering nonverbal spells has always been a recognized difficulty—in fact, in practical application, you might even find nonverbal spells to be nothing special, or even that they hinder the normal effectiveness of spells."
Closing his lesson plan, William began to share his personal insights on nonverbal spells.
"As you should know, a standard spell is composed of sufficient magical power, a standard incantation, clear consciousness, and a standard gesture."
"For beginner spells, a slight deviation can even cause a spell to undergo miraculous changes, or even harm the caster. But nonverbal spells, without even using an incantation, can ensure that the spell doesn't deviate at all."
"Let's discuss this. Why does this happen? No need to stand up, just speak from your seats—we don't need the standard answer from the textbook. Just briefly discuss other possibilities you can think of."
William spread his hands, indicating that the students could speak.
"Is it a matter of spell proficiency?"
"Hmm, that makes sense. Anything else?"
"Understanding of the spell's effects?"
"That also makes sense."
...
"Does it have to do with the spell's tendency, Professor?"
"Interesting insight. Three points to Ravenclaw. Tell me more about what you're thinking."
'I hadn't thought of that. I'll make a note of it.'
William quietly made a note on his lesson plan—among the published books, the textbook content for the sixth-year advanced class was quite sparse. He wasn't sure if it was because they believed advanced class students could easily understand the textbook content or if it was a matter of knowledge monopolization.
'Probably both. After all, this is a country that would include Latin in its civil service exams.'
However, the library's Restricted Section was open by default to professors, so William didn't have to worry about not finding reference books. The students' discussions were, at most, supplementary.
---
"All right, class dismissed."
The end-of-class bell interrupted the students' lively discussion and also awakened William's forcefully suppressed curiosity.
"An essay on your insights regarding nonverbal spells. Although you've certainly encountered nonverbal spells in other subjects, unfortunately, this one is for me. Write it well, or it will be sent back for a rewrite."
After this bucket of cold water dampened the students' momentum to continue discussing, William quickly walked towards the classroom door.
"Oh, and don't bring your textbooks next class. We'll have a double period of practical work. Remember to bring your essays."
Stepping out of the classroom, William threw a parting shot to the students inside.
Ignoring the cheering from behind him, William suppressed the urge to run, quickening his pace towards Filch's Office.
'It's been a week. If nothing goes wrong, the culprit book should have been found by now. Will it be a cultist text or a ritual book?'
As he made such conjectures, he began to consider the protective magic he would need to use later.
'Right, this incident would be a good opportunity to prepare a lesson on protection against evil rituals. The sixth and seventh years could take it, while the fifth years continue with their previous arrangements.'
His mood was exceptionally good now—the matter that had troubled him for a week finally saw a glimmer of resolution, making him unusually relaxed.
Just as he was about to hum a little tune, a flash of fiery red appeared before his eyes.
'A Weasley again?'
The good day was over.
Like a needle pricking a balloon, William's earlier good mood vanished into thin air.
Although the Weasley before him wasn't the one who had caused trouble at his party, that fiery red hair made him unable to resist making the connection.
'This is Professor McGonagall's office. What happened to her?'
"Ah! Professor!"
The moment he looked at the girl, the little girl named Ginny bristled like a startled cat.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing, Professor, nothing—"
She defended herself frantically, which made William suspicious—students who made mistakes usually acted this way.
William stopped short and glanced at the room.
It was Professor McGonagall's office.
'Could she be trying to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office?'
This strange thought popped into William's mind.
Theoretically, no Gryffindor had dared to do such a thing so far, but the Weasleys—it wasn't that William was biased against them, but each one was naughtier than the last.
Just as he was pondering which school rule applied to the current scene, the office door opened, and Professor McGonagall walked out.
"Professor! I'm reporting Percy! He's dating a Ravenclaw Prefect!~"
(end of chapter)
