Chapter 185: Classroom
Late February, with spring rain approaching, the air was all damp.
Percy took the steps two at a time and stamped his feet at the foyer entrance, leaving the mud and grass on his shoes outside the castle.
Entering the foyer, his steps paused slightly, and his gaze instinctively turned to the four house points hourglasses. House points were counted with gemstones, and the hourglasses of different houses often contained gemstones of different colors.
Godric Gryffindor’s rubies, Rowena Ravenclaw’s sapphires, Slytherin’s emeralds, and Helga Hufflepuff’s yellow diamonds, piled together. Whenever night fell, the colorful gemstones reflected the torches and candlelight, shining brilliantly.
But now, the four house hourglasses were all empty, with no gemstones of any color inside.
The last notice on the notice board stated that because numerous students had slept in class, disrupting the normal teaching order, the four deans and professors of each subject had jointly signed to deduct all the more than two hundred points they had accumulated last term, and also revoked the weekend connection to the Floo Network.
He still remembered Professor McGonagall’s expression when she mentioned this: brows tightly furrowed, lips pursed, her face grave but not angry.
Professor McGonagall had said that even before the projection mirror connection, Professor Levent had issued a warning, which she had not heeded, so she bore some responsibility for this collective wrongdoing. She did not blame these students, so she only deducted the corresponding house points from the rule-breaking students, without detention punishment.
Percy could imagine Professor Levent’s half-smiling expression.
Percy shook his head. Actually, he thought the projection mirror itself was not wrong. Students like George and Fred violated school rules and dragged others along, acting recklessly and despising school rules, with extremely bad influence—they should be severely punished!
Assign them to clean bathrooms, handle dragon dung compost, and polish trophies for Mr. Filch, punish them until they dare not offend again!
“Several after-class essays submitted last week were graded outstanding, which should add some points…”
Percy sighed at the empty hourglass, did not linger too long, and hurried upstairs.
He had not fully understood some parts of the last Potions class, and asking Professor Sprout after class had delayed him a bit. The next class was Muggle Studies, about to ring soon—he did not want to be late.
For him, who cared about his image, Professor Levent’s public punishment method was too cruel, almost no less than repeated torture with the Cruciatus Curse.
“Ahem… Last week we assigned a ten-foot after-class essay on the theme of exploring the negative impacts of the projection mirror. Actually, I assigned the same topic in fourth year. Some of their insights impressed me, like Mr. Busted’s. I wonder if you’ve read his thesis?”
Professor Levent’s warm voice flowed through the classroom.
Percy heard cheerful low laughter around him. The boys were discussing pure-blood wizards’ aesthetics, from pointed hats with vulture specimens to various odd robes, and the classroom atmosphere quickly livened up.
Before long, the girls shifted the topic to Professor Levent’s outfit: a light brown shirt with dark white checks, a champagne gold solid thick-textured tie, and a perfectly matching bright blue pocket square.
The girl next to him flipped a page in her notebook and noted the visual effect of this color combination on the paper: serene, wise, like Rowena Ravenclaw’s sapphire.
Percy remembered his girlfriend Penelope making similar comparisons, thinking to himself: When I work at the Ministry of Magic later, I’ll have a suit like this custom-made.
“Don’t laugh. Actually, Mr. Busted’s angle is quite novel, exploring wizards and Muggle culture from an aesthetic perspective. There are many thought-provoking points here. The mysterious and wonderful magic influences wizards’ way of thinking, while Muggles try to dissect everything with science, yet they are interconnected and opposing. We can discuss it in detail if there’s a chance later.”
Melvin curved his finger and tapped lightly on the desk, quieting the students’ chatter. This class unusually had a lesson plan; after livening the atmosphere, he needed to quickly move to the main topic—
Reviewing the essays assigned last week, analyzing the negative impacts of the projection mirror, and explaining its positioning and proper use to the students.
“When Muggle society first transitioned from textual information in newspapers to visual information, residents’ lifestyles were greatly impacted, and the publishing, newspaper office, and printing industries shook violently…”
Melvin did not go too deep, trying to avoid obscure professional terms. “For individuals, the rapid transmission of excessive information impacts their way of thinking. Immature minds cannot bear it, like a small boat sailing into the deep sea—it cannot find its way or sail to a definite course, either drifting with the waves or capsizing in the wind and waves.”
Students with Muggle backgrounds quickly understood and followed the professor’s train of thought, but some pure-blood students still could not grasp it intuitively, staring blankly at the professor with wooden expressions.
“…”
They say eyes are the windows to thought. Melvin could see their hollow brains through the windows, the kind that would make a crisp sound if knocked.
“Let me put it in a way you can easily understand…” Melvin paused briefly, then suddenly asked, “Everyone here is in sixth year. Professor Flitwick has already taught you the definition of Dark Magic—do you all remember?”
Percy nodded, not understanding how the topic suddenly turned to Dark Magic.
“Magic mainly used to control, harm, or even kill life, possessing great power but hard to control, and tempting one to fall into the abyss…”
Melvin answered his own question, scanning the classroom. “Among you, who thinks they can resist the temptation of Dark Magic, master great power without being influenced by darkness? Raise your hand, let me see.”
Percy silently raised his hand—not just him, most students in the classroom raised their hands.
No need to mention the notorious Malfoy; even lesser-known Parkinson, Greengrass, and Nott—whose pure-blood family studies or attic warehouses or boxes did not have a few forbidden magic books that students could flip through and practice at home.
Some students from Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff knew a few hexes and poison curses.
Not to mention professors sometimes demonstrating Dark Magic themselves—Professor Levent and Professor Snape in Duelling class were examples.
Since Voldemort and the Death Eaters fell, the Wizarding World had been at peace for over a decade. For them, who had never truly encountered Dark Wizards, Dark Magic was not that evil.
Melvin waved them down and said casually, “There’s a magic school in Northern Europe called Durmstrang, famous for its Dark Magic courses. The ice and snow forge unyielding character, producing many truly great wizards, but also many isolated, extreme students with radical words and actions—not to mention some who cannot resist the temptation of great power, indulging in the world of Dark Magic and falling into darkness. It has faced controversy since its founding, as it was once the darkest among all 11 magic schools.”
The classroom fell silent.
“The projection mirror is like Dark Magic—it makes information transmission faster and more convenient. You can learn news from faraway London or even Albania by the fireplace, see magical creatures on the African continent, see exactly what reporters see on site, with every detail clear. You’ve never experienced this before—more fun than reading books, effortless, like a wonderful Dark Magic that knows everything.”
Melvin’s tone was calm: “But it’s all false. You only see what the wizards behind the scenes want you to see. Like Dark Magic, it silently and stealthily influences you, eroding your precious time, making you isolated, reducing truly meaningful activities…”
“Isn’t that too serious?” someone muttered lowly.
“Oliver Wood.” Melvin suddenly named the Godric Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
“Here, professor.”
“If I remember correctly, your team does special training every weekend, right?”
“Yes.”
“Last week?”
“Last week we were studying the Scotland representative team’s tactics.” Wood told the truth—last Sunday the whole team was watching the match in the projection mirror. George and Fred proposed delaying training by a week, and it passed unanimously.
“Can the tactics you studied be applied in school matches?”
“…”
Wood was immediately stunned in place.
The students showed thoughtful expressions, with something odd in their eyes.
Percy also calmed down. It was hard to sum up the theme of Professor Levent’s class—it seemed to explore the projection mirror’s influence, like thought education, correcting their misconceptions.
Professor Levent cleverly linked Dark Magic and the projection mirror, combined with last week’s essays, giving them a deeper understanding of technological creations. It turned out Muggle things could also devour their energy and time like Dark Magic curses—and they gave it willingly.
It also made some students ask themselves: if they couldn’t resist the projection mirror’s temptation, how could they resist Dark Magic’s?
…
After class, the classroom quieted down.
The doorway half-open, Melvin stood on the podium waving his wand. Magic acted on the tables and chairs in the classroom; the hard oak suddenly came alive, becoming soft and light, hopping to the wall side, stacking themselves like a human pyramid, clearing an open space.
Without waiting long, Neville and Marietta pushed open the classroom door, somewhat surprised: “Professor Levent, are you waiting here especially for us?”
“I heard your play rehearsal is going very well, and I want to see it with my own eyes.” Melvin smiled lightly.
Over the next half hour, Drama Club members arrived one after another. After long rehearsals, they had developed a fixed work process: backstage personnel methodically set up the stage, actors checked issues found in the last rehearsal and exchanged solutions.
“Cedric, go slower when charging on horseback later, let the props team maneuver the evil dragon to swallow you actively.”
“Tell them to watch the evil dragon’s tongue. Whoever is controlling it always hits my head uncontrollably when closing mouth—last time when swallowing me, it nearly knocked off my helmet… Though the armor is supposed to be damaged, can we not damage my head too…”
“Got it, got it.” Neville nodded repeatedly, his face flushing with shame.
Cedric could tell at a glance who was controlling it, sighed, looking wistful.
This Lumbardons classmate was still very reliable, always actively solving problems found, but he was too young—a second year little wizard controlling Transfiguration and Levitation Charm at the same time was always a bit strained, only able to pray not to err in the rush.
Melvin’s gaze lingered on Marietta.
Walking briskly through the classroom, she seemed familiar with everyone’s work, docking and talking with each student, already showing a bit of her mother Mrs. Ekko’s shadow. Other students showed no disdain when talking to this person in charge.
Preparations lasted over ten minutes, until Neville and Marietta came forward to report.
“Professor, we can start!”
Melvin’s gaze softened, he waved for them to begin the performance, and found a spot to watch quietly.
“Marietta, do you think you’re ready to perform on stage?”
“No problem, professor.” The girl’s expression was serious as she patiently explained to him, “We consulted Sir Nicholas, absorbed past performance experience from the ghost troupe, scripted based on Sir Cadogan as prototype, edited and adjusted together. We also consulted Headmaster Dumbledore—he thinks our performance is excellent!”
“…”
Melvin had no doubt—this was exactly something Dumbledore would do.
As they spoke, the stage had begun rehearsing the knight charging at the evil dragon, villagers pretending to panic and flee everywhere, armored warriors with spears, and the two-legged dragon opening its mouth to breathe fire…
Compared to a few months ago, the progress was very obvious, but from a stage effects specialist’s view, it still seemed immature—the props and effects student-conceived were somewhat crude.
But genuine enough to take to a bigger stage.
…
Soon it was the weekend again.
A pleasant breeze blew gently, the weather neither cold nor hot—perfect for a Quidditch match.
Godric Gryffindor versus Helga Hufflepuff; an hour before kickoff, the stands were already packed with audience.
Unlike the neighboring Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw teams, whose loyal fans were always their own house students, both the lion house and badger house teams had a star player, both starting Seekers—Harry and Cedric’s presence made students from other houses willing to cheer for them.
Appearance and fame turned into momentum at this moment, the atmosphere very heated.
Melvin was not present, standing at the castle tower window gazing afar; even from a great distance, their cheers could be heard.
With Madam Hooch’s whistle, both teams’ players took off simultaneously. Individual faces could not be seen clearly, only distinguished by color: Godric Gryffindor in bright red robes, Helga Hufflepuff in bright yellow robes, the two colors streaking rapidly across the pitch airspace, especially eye-catching.
Beaters and Chasers tangled together, while Seekers roamed the battlefield periphery.
Harry’s slightly thin figure streaked through the air, with Cedric hot on his tail behind; high-speed climbs, sudden stops, and turns in constant contention, flashy complex flying displays dazzling the eyes.
As expected, top-level Seeker matchups were the most spectacular.
“…”
Melvin withdrew his gaze, looked down at the two house-elves beside him, and softly called, “Let’s go, Dobby, Scritch.”
