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Chapter 96: Opera and Curse
"I have a premonition that something bad is about to happen."
"Yes, something has been disturbed. The days at Hogwarts will no longer be peaceful."
After Professor Kettleburn left, Adams wore a worried expression, and Singeade was equally grave.
"Why are you two acting like Divination professors? If I recall, one of you teaches Herbology and the other Alchemy. You don't know the first thing about Divination, do you?"
William scoffed at their mysterious expressions, laughing mercilessly. "I dare say, even if I gave each of you a crystal ball, you'd only be able to see the reflection of your surroundings in it."
It wasn't as if they hadn't discussed Divination before. Talented seers were incredibly rare. If the Ministry of Magic didn't allocate a large special fund to maintain the subject each year, it would have long since become a sixth-year elective, just like Alchemy.
Therefore, it was perfectly normal that all three of them were hopeless at Divination. Whether it was Arithmancy, Astromancy, Tasseomancy, or crystal ball gazing... they were all equally and utterly clueless.
"No, William, you're the one missing the point. We may not understand Divination, but you don't understand Professor Kettleburn."
For once, Adams didn't retort with a taunt, instead defending his point with considerable seriousness.
"The old professor is a great guy. He gets along with the younger crowd, he's down-to-earth... and while he might have made some mistakes in the past, he's about to retire, isn't he?"
"It's precisely because Professor Kettleburn is retiring that we suspect he's about to stir up some major trouble. I suspect he plans to bring back the tradition he destroyed."
"Tradition?"
William paused for a moment, then instantly recalled the famous incident involving the professor. Because the magical creatures he provided for a performance burned down the Great Hall, Hogwarts had strictly forbidden any kind of play ever since.
"Yes, you guessed it. It's probably an opera. Professor Kettleburn is retiring, and I saw how much he enjoyed the performance just now. I suspect he wants to go out with a bang and stage an opera at the school before he leaves."
Adams looked at William, nodding to confirm his thoughts.
"No way."
William voiced his doubt, but he didn't believe his own words. The lively old man's seniority was just too great. Professor McGonagall certainly couldn't stop him, and Dumbledore would probably feel too awkward to intervene. And that was before considering the addition of the showboating Professor Lockhart. Heaven knows what kind of chaos that would cause!
After today's performance sparked Professor Kettleburn's desire for an opera, William found it hard to believe that Kettleburn wouldn't seek out Professor Lockhart for a collaboration. Although he usually enjoyed watching drama unfold, he still had the curse on his position to worry about.
The last time, the school's Great Hall was burned down, sending a large number of teachers and students to the hospital wing. This time, sending the new professor to the hospital missing a few limbs... didn't sound illogical at all.
Professor Kettleburn was a man who had managed to lose two and a half of his own limbs. William had no doubt that if a real accident occurred, this professor could cost him a leg. He could count more magical creatures that could cause permanent wounds than he had fingers on one hand!
---
A man of Professor Kettleburn's age was certainly not one to heed the advice of others. In fact, the old professor didn't even appear at the dining table that evening. According to a portrait in the castle, the old professor had become incredibly energetic.
Because of this, William started carrying a large amount of Dittany for treating injuries and increased his personal stock of bezoars—a universal antidote, in the herbological sense—to three.
What else could he do?
Once Professor Kettleburn started making a plan, even Professor McGonagall's advice would be useless. Could he, a newly arrived professor, manage a veteran like him?
Besides, it was only a guess... You couldn't convict someone based on speculation, could you? It was a baseless accusation.
And for all their joking, William knew that if the old professor needed help, Adams and the others would be the first to volunteer. What ill intentions could an old professor who had dedicated his entire life to teaching possibly have?
---
To most people's surprise, Professor Lockhart's club was a great success. On the very first evening, a long line formed outside his office. Although none of those who sought his advice forgot to ask for a signature on their way out, it didn't stop Lockhart's damaged reputation among the students from soaring once again.
At the dining table the next day, Professor Lockhart even began to proactively discuss his classes—something that hadn't happened since his first disastrous lesson.
"One must show them the world beyond. Obsessing over a single spell will only narrow their horizons. I imagine they must be looking forward to today's lesson. Well then, see you later, Professor William."
Lockhart waved to William and the others, then rose and headed for his classroom.
*'Showing them the world beyond' is all well and good, Professor Lockhart, but I just hope you don't collaborate with Professor Kettleburn. You might just bring some dirges to perform your grand finale, but if the old professor really decides to stage a play, I suspect the curse's effect won't even wait for opening night. You'll be forced to leave the school during rehearsals.*
But this was obviously something he couldn't say. Neither the problem of the curse on the course nor the old professor's history of burning down the Great Hall was a secret. If William knew about these things, Professor Lockhart, a Hogwarts graduate, certainly couldn't be ignorant of them. Pointing it out would not only fail as a warning but would also offend a whole lot of people.
Sighing, William put down his cutlery and stood up from the dining table.
"Well, I'm off to class. See you later."
"See you."
---
"Good morning, students. It's been a week. How are you all feeling today?"
"Feeling great, Professor! It's just a shame we can't wear hats."
A bold student responded to William's greeting.
It was the seventh-year students who had started the trend of wearing hats to Professor Snape's class. After the incident, Professor McGonagall had strictly forbidden students of her House from wearing hats during class.
A number of students snickered along with him. Professor Snape was far too biased towards his own House, giving him a terrible reputation among the students.
"Alright, let's put the hat matter behind us for now. A gentleman's agreement: you don't wear hats in my class, and I won't deduct points from you because of hats. We'll leave it at that."
William made an exaggerated gesture of a deal being struck, then tapped the desk.
"Okay, now, no more talk of hats. Hmm—besides dress code, internships involve transportation. So let's talk about Apparition."
"Now, those who have passed the Apparition exam, please raise your hand."
Everyone in the classroom raised their hands. Those who could self-study their way into an advanced class were unlikely to have a weak foundation in other areas of magic.
"Excellent. Although we didn't plan to teach it, it's fantastic that you are all proficient."
"So, who can tell me, what is the most common problem that occurs with Apparition?"
"Splinching, Professor."
A Gryffindor student answered the question as he raised his hand.
"That's correct, but the question was too easy. No points awarded."
Disappointed murmurs came from below, but William coolly ignored them.
"That's right, Splinching—one of the most common injuries. For this lesson, let's discuss how to handle common wounds."
For the second lesson of the school year, out of worry, William altered his curriculum for the first time.
(end of chapter)
"I have a premonition that something bad is about to happen."
"Yes, something has been disturbed. The days at Hogwarts will no longer be peaceful."
After Professor Kettleburn left, Adams wore a worried expression, and Singeade was equally grave.
"Why are you two acting like Divination professors? If I recall, one of you teaches Herbology and the other Alchemy. You don't know the first thing about Divination, do you?"
William scoffed at their mysterious expressions, laughing mercilessly. "I dare say, even if I gave each of you a crystal ball, you'd only be able to see the reflection of your surroundings in it."
It wasn't as if they hadn't discussed Divination before. Talented seers were incredibly rare. If the Ministry of Magic didn't allocate a large special fund to maintain the subject each year, it would have long since become a sixth-year elective, just like Alchemy.
Therefore, it was perfectly normal that all three of them were hopeless at Divination. Whether it was Arithmancy, Astromancy, Tasseomancy, or crystal ball gazing... they were all equally and utterly clueless.
"No, William, you're the one missing the point. We may not understand Divination, but you don't understand Professor Kettleburn."
For once, Adams didn't retort with a taunt, instead defending his point with considerable seriousness.
"The old professor is a great guy. He gets along with the younger crowd, he's down-to-earth... and while he might have made some mistakes in the past, he's about to retire, isn't he?"
"It's precisely because Professor Kettleburn is retiring that we suspect he's about to stir up some major trouble. I suspect he plans to bring back the tradition he destroyed."
"Tradition?"
William paused for a moment, then instantly recalled the famous incident involving the professor. Because the magical creatures he provided for a performance burned down the Great Hall, Hogwarts had strictly forbidden any kind of play ever since.
"Yes, you guessed it. It's probably an opera. Professor Kettleburn is retiring, and I saw how much he enjoyed the performance just now. I suspect he wants to go out with a bang and stage an opera at the school before he leaves."
Adams looked at William, nodding to confirm his thoughts.
"No way."
William voiced his doubt, but he didn't believe his own words. The lively old man's seniority was just too great. Professor McGonagall certainly couldn't stop him, and Dumbledore would probably feel too awkward to intervene. And that was before considering the addition of the showboating Professor Lockhart. Heaven knows what kind of chaos that would cause!
After today's performance sparked Professor Kettleburn's desire for an opera, William found it hard to believe that Kettleburn wouldn't seek out Professor Lockhart for a collaboration. Although he usually enjoyed watching drama unfold, he still had the curse on his position to worry about.
The last time, the school's Great Hall was burned down, sending a large number of teachers and students to the hospital wing. This time, sending the new professor to the hospital missing a few limbs... didn't sound illogical at all.
Professor Kettleburn was a man who had managed to lose two and a half of his own limbs. William had no doubt that if a real accident occurred, this professor could cost him a leg. He could count more magical creatures that could cause permanent wounds than he had fingers on one hand!
---
A man of Professor Kettleburn's age was certainly not one to heed the advice of others. In fact, the old professor didn't even appear at the dining table that evening. According to a portrait in the castle, the old professor had become incredibly energetic.
Because of this, William started carrying a large amount of Dittany for treating injuries and increased his personal stock of bezoars—a universal antidote, in the herbological sense—to three.
What else could he do?
Once Professor Kettleburn started making a plan, even Professor McGonagall's advice would be useless. Could he, a newly arrived professor, manage a veteran like him?
Besides, it was only a guess... You couldn't convict someone based on speculation, could you? It was a baseless accusation.
And for all their joking, William knew that if the old professor needed help, Adams and the others would be the first to volunteer. What ill intentions could an old professor who had dedicated his entire life to teaching possibly have?
---
To most people's surprise, Professor Lockhart's club was a great success. On the very first evening, a long line formed outside his office. Although none of those who sought his advice forgot to ask for a signature on their way out, it didn't stop Lockhart's damaged reputation among the students from soaring once again.
At the dining table the next day, Professor Lockhart even began to proactively discuss his classes—something that hadn't happened since his first disastrous lesson.
"One must show them the world beyond. Obsessing over a single spell will only narrow their horizons. I imagine they must be looking forward to today's lesson. Well then, see you later, Professor William."
Lockhart waved to William and the others, then rose and headed for his classroom.
*'Showing them the world beyond' is all well and good, Professor Lockhart, but I just hope you don't collaborate with Professor Kettleburn. You might just bring some dirges to perform your grand finale, but if the old professor really decides to stage a play, I suspect the curse's effect won't even wait for opening night. You'll be forced to leave the school during rehearsals.*
But this was obviously something he couldn't say. Neither the problem of the curse on the course nor the old professor's history of burning down the Great Hall was a secret. If William knew about these things, Professor Lockhart, a Hogwarts graduate, certainly couldn't be ignorant of them. Pointing it out would not only fail as a warning but would also offend a whole lot of people.
Sighing, William put down his cutlery and stood up from the dining table.
"Well, I'm off to class. See you later."
"See you."
---
"Good morning, students. It's been a week. How are you all feeling today?"
"Feeling great, Professor! It's just a shame we can't wear hats."
A bold student responded to William's greeting.
It was the seventh-year students who had started the trend of wearing hats to Professor Snape's class. After the incident, Professor McGonagall had strictly forbidden students of her House from wearing hats during class.
A number of students snickered along with him. Professor Snape was far too biased towards his own House, giving him a terrible reputation among the students.
"Alright, let's put the hat matter behind us for now. A gentleman's agreement: you don't wear hats in my class, and I won't deduct points from you because of hats. We'll leave it at that."
William made an exaggerated gesture of a deal being struck, then tapped the desk.
"Okay, now, no more talk of hats. Hmm—besides dress code, internships involve transportation. So let's talk about Apparition."
"Now, those who have passed the Apparition exam, please raise your hand."
Everyone in the classroom raised their hands. Those who could self-study their way into an advanced class were unlikely to have a weak foundation in other areas of magic.
"Excellent. Although we didn't plan to teach it, it's fantastic that you are all proficient."
"So, who can tell me, what is the most common problem that occurs with Apparition?"
"Splinching, Professor."
A Gryffindor student answered the question as he raised his hand.
"That's correct, but the question was too easy. No points awarded."
Disappointed murmurs came from below, but William coolly ignored them.
"That's right, Splinching—one of the most common injuries. For this lesson, let's discuss how to handle common wounds."
For the second lesson of the school year, out of worry, William altered his curriculum for the first time.
(end of chapter)
