Chapter 95: Being A Professor Is All About Enjoying It
Ten o’clock at night.
The banquet lasted nearly three hours and still showed no signs of ending.
Various delicious dishes filled their stomachs, and there were after-dinner desserts to enjoy.
Hermione held a slice of avalanche strawberry cake, slowly scraping off a layer of jam and cream with a spoon, putting it in her mouth, and contentedly squinting her eyes.
Looking beside her, Harry and Ron were leaning side by side on the bench, their bellies bulging, eyes glazed over, as if their brains were stuffed full of roasted chicken legs, with platters piled high with bones, gnawed clean.
Seeing that everyone had almost finished eating, Melvin looked at Professor McGonagall beside him and gave her a questioning glance.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and nodded slightly.
“Ding!”
Melvin tapped a goblet with a spoon gleaming with silver metallic luster, the sharp trembling sound drawing all eyes in the room, making the entire Great Hall fall silent.
He did not speak immediately, but let the silence spread through the Great Hall. Several lively little wizards wanted to say something witty, but seeing the professors’ serious expressions, they didn’t dare to speak.
In the center of the high table, Dumbledore sipped a piece of caramel pudding, watching the young professor not far away, his bright blue eyes twinkling, finding it amusing.
“You’re about to leave school soon. The Hogwarts Express is parked outside the school, waiting for you to pack your luggage and depart. Some words, if not said now, will have to wait until the holidays.”
Melvin’s voice echoed through the Great Hall, his gaze sweeping over the four house tables, pausing for a few seconds before asking: “Do you know your Defence Against the Dark Arts practical examination scores?”
Hermione felt a slight tremor in her heart, sensing an ominous premonition.
Professor Levent spoke slowly, and recalling the oddities during that exam, she had already judged in her heart that the examination scores from the first year at the magic school would likely be very unoptimistic.
The other little wizards had similar feelings; the professor’s expression was solemn, his tone serious—it was clearly bad news.
“There are seven years in total at the school, five years took the exam, and all five years failed.”
Hermione’s breath caught, unable to believe it.
“Look at the students from these five years. Among you, there are prefects, Quidditch captains, student council presidents, many are professors’ good helpers, good students in their parents’ eyes, and now, all of you failed.”
“Several professors worked hard to set up the exam venue and hand it over to you, yet you turned it into this mess.”
Melvin spoke slowly, his tone calm with almost no inflection, but to the students’ ears, it was full of heartbroken indignation: “As the question-setting professor, I even suspect it’s my own fault. I feel sorry for the school, sorry for the headmaster, sorry for the other professors. I wish I could give myself a failing grade too.”
“Professor…”
Hermione felt heavy-hearted for a moment, gripping the silver spoon tightly.
Not far away were Angelina and Aaliyah, right next to the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was silent, and hearing the usually kind professor say this, those who took Muggle Studies felt heavy-hearted too.
“Cough cough…”
Professor McGonagall at the high table cleared her throat and gave Melvin several glances, signaling him not to go too far and to get to the point.
Sensing the slowly growing magic power, Melvin pretended not to see her glances and continued speaking in a slow, flat tone:
“First, the first checkpoint: facing a dark cave of unknown situation, no one thought to do any investigation. Professor Flitwick taught you over a dozen spells for probing situations, but you didn’t use a single one—Illumination Charm, Revealing Charm, Flame Charm… or even just toss a stone to test the way?
“You were lucky; Professor Sprout’s Devil’s Snare has a mild temperament and slow movements. When someone intrudes into the nest, it doesn’t attack immediately. What if it were venomous tentacles? Whomping Willow? Viper?
“Do you remember the red juice on your clothes at the time?
“If it had been venom, you’d all be corpses by now.
“The entire school—total wipeout!”
“You like this—still want to be warriors resisting the Dark Lord?”
“…”
Although they had faintly anticipated it before, hearing the professor’s calm, slow question with their own ears still made the little wizards’ faces burn, not daring to meet the professor’s gaze.
They only thought of showing off, of repeating the warriors’ adventures, without considering the correct approach at all.
Percy buried his head deeply, feeling ashamed of himself. As Gryffindor’s prefect, he hadn’t set an example; at the time, he only thought of outdoing his younger brother Ron.
“Now, the second checkpoint: the Transfiguration chessboard. Not a single student from the five years noticed the pathway left outside the chessboard, wide enough for you to walk through side by side. No need to fight the chess pieces, no need for any sacrifices!”
“…”
Many students felt a tingling scalp, followed immediately by Professor Levent’s reproach.
“Do you think you’re very heroic?
“Think you’re very great?
“Unfortunately, I only saw stupidity!
“Even stepping back, if you had to clear the checkpoint, why charge in bodily to fight?
“Lower years have few attack spells mastered, solving puzzles is understandable, but upper years? Don’t you know magic? Don’t you know Transfiguration? Or, as Professor Snape would say, are your brains blocked by Wizard Chess?”
Everyone in the hall had no doubt; they all thought this was something Professor Snape would say.
“…”
Snape’s expression suddenly stiffened.
What did that mean—crude insults pinned on him?
“The final checkpoint disappointed me the most.” Melvin shook his head slightly. “Faced with a pile of unknown potions, you didn’t trust the Potions knowledge you’d learned, but chose to believe a flimsy piece of parchment.
“What if it was poison inside? What if it was venom?
Melvin judged from the magic power feedback that the students seemed a bit numb, paused, and asked in a ghostly tone: “What if it was feces and urine from the sewer?”
“!!!”
Some students immediately widened their eyes, faces turning pale, hardly able to believe it.
A few students wanted to take a sip to steady their nerves, but as their lips touched the wine glasses, they immediately recalled the professor’s words about feces and urine, and their stomachs churned.
Snape’s eye twitched slightly, thinking this guy was even more overboard than himself.
“I’ve always heard that Hogwarts is the oldest magic school, with students of very high overall quality. Graduates go to other countries and are valued. Reflecting on your exam performance, do you think you deserve such praise?”
Melvin sighed, his tone softening a bit: “Think it over carefully.”
“…”
Silence was tonight’s Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall’s expression was complex.
The students were still young; the oldest sixth years were only seventeen. These years, the wizarding world had been peaceful, no wars or disturbances, dark wizards hadn’t emerged much, and Defence Against the Dark Arts professors changed frequently with no systematic learning. Suddenly facing this assessment and getting all failing scores—who knew if they’d be too disheartened.
She suddenly felt a bit sorry for these students.
