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Chapter 71: The Sun in Antarctica is So Bright (Happy New Year)
“Professor William, you really won’t be scheduling another exam for the Seventh Years?”
“I promise, Professor McGonagall.”
At the staff table, William assured Professor McGonagall with a solemn expression.
This morning was supposed to be William's first lesson with the Seventh Year students. However, during breakfast, Professor McGonagall uncharacteristically sat down next to him, and after a long, meandering chat, she finally got to the point.
Under no circumstances could the incident with the Fifth Year students all failing be repeated with the Seventh Years—the Fifth Years had an entire year to adjust, but the Seventh Years did not!
Although Hogwarts was a school primarily focused on education, the employment of Seventh Year students was an exceptionally important matter for the school.
Every student at Hogwarts had to attend career counseling in their Fifth Year to help with their future career planning.
All professions had clear requirements, more or less, for Ordinary Wizarding Levels certificates and the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test certificates from the advanced classes. But finding a job wasn't something you did in a flash right after graduation.
That was even more absurd than being forbidden from dating your whole school life, only to be pressured to marry and have kids the second you graduate.
For most students, after receiving their O.W.L. certificate and studying for a year in an advanced class, they could start looking for internships during the summer holidays or even in the new semester. Aside from a few professions with exceptionally high requirements that demanded further training upon entry, like Aurors, the remaining students spent half of their Seventh Year courses in internships.
Theoretically, if you had no need for a N.E.W.T. certificate, a Sixth Year student could even give up their remaining studies and apply directly to the School Authority for a long leave of absence—which was one of the reasons the advanced class courses were taught to all Four Houses together.
Of course, there were almost no jobs that only required an O.W.L. certificate.
Under these circumstances, let alone failing all the students, even failing a single student would be unwise. It would severely affect the student's mentality toward their internship. Some students might even be dismissed from their internships or give up looking for a job altogether because they couldn't balance work and study.
Therefore, Professor McGonagall, who was reluctant to interfere with a professor's daily teaching, had deliberately used a tactful approach to give William this reminder.
‘The Seventh Year students are on the verge of collapse under the dual pressure of exams and employment. As a professor, you shouldn't add to their stress by failing them arbitrarily.’
Professor McGonagall's meaning was expressed quite clearly, and William also made a solemn promise—aside from the graduation exams and the N.E.W.T. exams, the Seventh Year students would not receive so much as a single test paper from him.
He was here to be a serious professor, not to mess with the students.
The students who made it into the advanced classes had their foundation. They didn't need excessive reinforcement of the basics. Instead, they should be broadening their knowledge to face the assessments from wizarding society that lay ahead.
Although William hadn't exactly lived a normal life in wizarding society, thanks to Azkaban, aside from a job at the Ministry of Magic, there was probably no place with a darker side than what he had witnessed.
Sixth Year students might still need some high-level magic training, but as for the Seventh Years, William was prepared to share some life lessons—ahem, experience from Azkaban.
---
“You’re here?”
“Yeah, it’s the first class of the new semester. Can’t really skip it, can we?”
Though they were from different Houses, having been classmates for over six years had made them familiar with one another.
“How’s the internship search going for you all?”
“A bit difficult. The Ministry of Magic is still uncertain about recruiting me. The Defense Against the Dark Arts course at Hogwarts has been too weak these past few years, and they doubt I’ll be able to adapt to the later stages of learning after joining.”
“Are you kidding? Nymphadora, you got nine O.W.L.s, seven of them ‘Outstanding.’ You’re widely acknowledged as the top of our year, and the Ministry of Magic won’t recruit you?”
“I have my own doubts. The prerequisite to become an Auror is high to begin with, and the washout rate is terrifyingly high. I don't think getting recruited will be a problem, but passing the training will be incredibly difficult.”
...
While waiting for the professor to arrive, the students started discussing their employment issues. The fact that the new professor had a terrible sense of direction had already spread among the students—it's a common human trait, for wizards and Muggles alike, to find fault in someone's daily life when you can't criticize their actions.
But as they chatted, they suddenly realized that the class bell had rung a long time ago, yet the professor showed no sign of appearing.
“We didn’t go to the wrong classroom, did we?”
“I don’t think so?”
“This is the Dark Magic—I mean, the Magical Self-Defense classroom.”
“Did the professor get lost?”
This sentence was met with countless knowing smiles—understanding was one thing, spreading rumors was another. The Fifth Years had even made up jokes about the new professor.
But laughter couldn't solve the problem. After the laughter died down, everyone realized there was nothing they could do but wait.
“Hey? Right, Nymphadora, aren’t you a Prefect? Why don’t you go check the staff room, or ask a portrait?”
“Alright, but don’t you lot wander off. If the professor shows up, remember to explain for me. If he comes to the classroom and sees no one, I don’t want to lose points for no reason in my Seventh Year—this is the man who failed an entire year, after all.”
The moment her words fell, a figure suddenly materialized on the lectern.
“Tsk, Miss Nymphadora, it’s wrong to talk about a professor behind their back. I’ve told those children many times that what failed them was their insufficient knowledge, not me deliberately deducting points—five points from Gryffindor.”
“Professor, you did that on purpose!”
Although the Prefect said nothing, the students below began to protest on her behalf.
“Yes, I did it on purpose.”
William nodded at that student, acknowledging his words, then revealed a handsome smile.
“But what can you do about it?”
The classroom instantly fell silent—not even Professor Snape would dare say something like that so openly.
Although Professor Snape was already quite arbitrary with his point deductions, he at least bothered to find an excuse. Even if he intentionally provoked a conflict, he would at least have a plausible reason.
“What are you all staring at? I thought I made myself perfectly clear. I was deliberately hiding over there to see if you would badmouth me, deliberately waiting for someone to take the bait before appearing to deduct points. Now, which one of you can tell me, what can you do about it?”
William spread his hands open to all the students, wearing an expression that said, ‘come at me if you’ve got a problem.’
After a long while, a strained answer finally emerged from the students who were rendered speechless.
“Report it to Professor McGonagall!”
“Professor McGonagall will, at most, have a talk with me. Afterward, I’ll just find a different way to deduct points—for instance, why aren't you wearing your hats in class?”
Deducting points for not wearing a hat in class—this was the first time these children had heard of such a thing in their seven years at Hogwarts. Not even a certain Potions professor who shall not be named would be that vicious!
PS: Sorry, it seems that after pushing back the deadline, my thoughts suddenly became overly active. My mind was just thinking, ‘writing it this way is good, writing it that way is also good,’ and then by the time it got dark, I realized it was already so late...
I plead guilty. I'll work hard to write more on New Year's Day...
(end of chapter)
“Professor William, you really won’t be scheduling another exam for the Seventh Years?”
“I promise, Professor McGonagall.”
At the staff table, William assured Professor McGonagall with a solemn expression.
This morning was supposed to be William's first lesson with the Seventh Year students. However, during breakfast, Professor McGonagall uncharacteristically sat down next to him, and after a long, meandering chat, she finally got to the point.
Under no circumstances could the incident with the Fifth Year students all failing be repeated with the Seventh Years—the Fifth Years had an entire year to adjust, but the Seventh Years did not!
Although Hogwarts was a school primarily focused on education, the employment of Seventh Year students was an exceptionally important matter for the school.
Every student at Hogwarts had to attend career counseling in their Fifth Year to help with their future career planning.
All professions had clear requirements, more or less, for Ordinary Wizarding Levels certificates and the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test certificates from the advanced classes. But finding a job wasn't something you did in a flash right after graduation.
That was even more absurd than being forbidden from dating your whole school life, only to be pressured to marry and have kids the second you graduate.
For most students, after receiving their O.W.L. certificate and studying for a year in an advanced class, they could start looking for internships during the summer holidays or even in the new semester. Aside from a few professions with exceptionally high requirements that demanded further training upon entry, like Aurors, the remaining students spent half of their Seventh Year courses in internships.
Theoretically, if you had no need for a N.E.W.T. certificate, a Sixth Year student could even give up their remaining studies and apply directly to the School Authority for a long leave of absence—which was one of the reasons the advanced class courses were taught to all Four Houses together.
Of course, there were almost no jobs that only required an O.W.L. certificate.
Under these circumstances, let alone failing all the students, even failing a single student would be unwise. It would severely affect the student's mentality toward their internship. Some students might even be dismissed from their internships or give up looking for a job altogether because they couldn't balance work and study.
Therefore, Professor McGonagall, who was reluctant to interfere with a professor's daily teaching, had deliberately used a tactful approach to give William this reminder.
‘The Seventh Year students are on the verge of collapse under the dual pressure of exams and employment. As a professor, you shouldn't add to their stress by failing them arbitrarily.’
Professor McGonagall's meaning was expressed quite clearly, and William also made a solemn promise—aside from the graduation exams and the N.E.W.T. exams, the Seventh Year students would not receive so much as a single test paper from him.
He was here to be a serious professor, not to mess with the students.
The students who made it into the advanced classes had their foundation. They didn't need excessive reinforcement of the basics. Instead, they should be broadening their knowledge to face the assessments from wizarding society that lay ahead.
Although William hadn't exactly lived a normal life in wizarding society, thanks to Azkaban, aside from a job at the Ministry of Magic, there was probably no place with a darker side than what he had witnessed.
Sixth Year students might still need some high-level magic training, but as for the Seventh Years, William was prepared to share some life lessons—ahem, experience from Azkaban.
---
“You’re here?”
“Yeah, it’s the first class of the new semester. Can’t really skip it, can we?”
Though they were from different Houses, having been classmates for over six years had made them familiar with one another.
“How’s the internship search going for you all?”
“A bit difficult. The Ministry of Magic is still uncertain about recruiting me. The Defense Against the Dark Arts course at Hogwarts has been too weak these past few years, and they doubt I’ll be able to adapt to the later stages of learning after joining.”
“Are you kidding? Nymphadora, you got nine O.W.L.s, seven of them ‘Outstanding.’ You’re widely acknowledged as the top of our year, and the Ministry of Magic won’t recruit you?”
“I have my own doubts. The prerequisite to become an Auror is high to begin with, and the washout rate is terrifyingly high. I don't think getting recruited will be a problem, but passing the training will be incredibly difficult.”
...
While waiting for the professor to arrive, the students started discussing their employment issues. The fact that the new professor had a terrible sense of direction had already spread among the students—it's a common human trait, for wizards and Muggles alike, to find fault in someone's daily life when you can't criticize their actions.
But as they chatted, they suddenly realized that the class bell had rung a long time ago, yet the professor showed no sign of appearing.
“We didn’t go to the wrong classroom, did we?”
“I don’t think so?”
“This is the Dark Magic—I mean, the Magical Self-Defense classroom.”
“Did the professor get lost?”
This sentence was met with countless knowing smiles—understanding was one thing, spreading rumors was another. The Fifth Years had even made up jokes about the new professor.
But laughter couldn't solve the problem. After the laughter died down, everyone realized there was nothing they could do but wait.
“Hey? Right, Nymphadora, aren’t you a Prefect? Why don’t you go check the staff room, or ask a portrait?”
“Alright, but don’t you lot wander off. If the professor shows up, remember to explain for me. If he comes to the classroom and sees no one, I don’t want to lose points for no reason in my Seventh Year—this is the man who failed an entire year, after all.”
The moment her words fell, a figure suddenly materialized on the lectern.
“Tsk, Miss Nymphadora, it’s wrong to talk about a professor behind their back. I’ve told those children many times that what failed them was their insufficient knowledge, not me deliberately deducting points—five points from Gryffindor.”
“Professor, you did that on purpose!”
Although the Prefect said nothing, the students below began to protest on her behalf.
“Yes, I did it on purpose.”
William nodded at that student, acknowledging his words, then revealed a handsome smile.
“But what can you do about it?”
The classroom instantly fell silent—not even Professor Snape would dare say something like that so openly.
Although Professor Snape was already quite arbitrary with his point deductions, he at least bothered to find an excuse. Even if he intentionally provoked a conflict, he would at least have a plausible reason.
“What are you all staring at? I thought I made myself perfectly clear. I was deliberately hiding over there to see if you would badmouth me, deliberately waiting for someone to take the bait before appearing to deduct points. Now, which one of you can tell me, what can you do about it?”
William spread his hands open to all the students, wearing an expression that said, ‘come at me if you’ve got a problem.’
After a long while, a strained answer finally emerged from the students who were rendered speechless.
“Report it to Professor McGonagall!”
“Professor McGonagall will, at most, have a talk with me. Afterward, I’ll just find a different way to deduct points—for instance, why aren't you wearing your hats in class?”
Deducting points for not wearing a hat in class—this was the first time these children had heard of such a thing in their seven years at Hogwarts. Not even a certain Potions professor who shall not be named would be that vicious!
PS: Sorry, it seems that after pushing back the deadline, my thoughts suddenly became overly active. My mind was just thinking, ‘writing it this way is good, writing it that way is also good,’ and then by the time it got dark, I realized it was already so late...
I plead guilty. I'll work hard to write more on New Year's Day...
(end of chapter)
