When Problems Arise, Sleep on Them

"Yes, yes, Professor!" The Seamus immediately stood at attention and quickly assured him.

"Finally," Professor McGonagall's gaze settled on Harry, her eyes deep and complex, carrying a hint of entrustment, "Mr. Potter."

"Professor?" Harry met her gaze.

Professor McGonagall nodded slightly.

"So, for the next week, you need to complete the following tasks: Miss Granger, finalize informed consent and the list; Mr. Weasley, ensure your brothers don't send any extra surprises before next Saturday; Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Finnegan, assist with the initial setup and inspection of the venue. Mr. Potter, you are responsible for bringing the Headmaster back."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over everyone. "This pilot program is not only a test of your proposals, but also a test of your organizational skills..."

A test of responsibility and discipline. Don't let me down, and don't make any of the first-year students feel uneasy or frightened—you can go back now."

"Thank you, Professor!"

The five of them walked down the quiet corridor after leaving Professor McGonagall's office.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the floor.

"She agreed! And she's even supervising!" Ron cheered in a low voice, but then his face fell. "But—we can't use any props? We're just going to watch the little ones run around?"

"This is the safest first step, Ron," Hermione quickly analyzed. "Professor McGonagall must first assess whether this format itself will cause problems. If we can get through the first time smoothly, the likelihood of introducing simpler props later will increase. Moreover, observing their instinctive reactions is very important; this will help us design more effective follow-up content."

Seamus scratched his head. "So what are we going to do this week? Set up the venue? Sounds way more boring than fireworks—"

"But it's very important."

Harry spoke, drawing everyone's attention back.

He recalled Professor McGonagall's final gaze and words of advice, and his feelings were complicated.

I?

Should I go find Dumbledore?

He has legs to run, and he's always going to Vienna; it's not something I can control.

Or, Professor McGonagall, why don't you just become the Headmaster?

error?

Professor McGonagall as Headmaster?

You know what, Harry thinks—it might actually be possible, huh?

First of all, Professor McGonagall is Dumbledore.

Secondly, at least Professor McGonagall won't always be wandering off and impossible to find.

But after thinking about it, Harry decided against it.

After all, if Dumbledore the Headmaster, he could deter Voldemort and prevent him from making any rash moves.

Of course, Harry forgot one thing: his name was Dumbledore's.

Dumbledore didn't kill Voldemort six times at least.

"Hermione, I'm leaving the list and consent forms to you. Ron, keep a close eye on George and Fred; if necessary, use Mrs. Weasley to threaten them. Neville, Seamus, the Room of Requirement needs careful preparation; you two work together with Hermione. As for me—"

He sighed.

"I have other things to do," he said.

"We know." Hermione and the others nodded knowingly. They were calling the Headmaster back.

This is important business.

Harry returned to the quiet Gryffindor Tower dormitory, plopped down on his four-poster bed, and stared blankly at the short message on his phone screen. "Headmaster, Professor McGonagall says there's something at school that requires your attention. There's a pilot safety training session for the lower grades next Saturday, which she'll be overseeing personally, and she hopes you can return to school as soon as possible. -Harry Potter."

The delivery status shows "delivered," but there is no "read" receipt, let alone a reply.

Harry tossed his phone onto the pillow and lay back down.

Looking for Gellert?

Harry quickly dismissed the option after just one thought.

As for contacting Dumbledore directly—that message was the limit of what he could do. Was he supposed to write a long, eloquent letter detailing how many more gray hairs Professor McGonagall had, and how inconvenient the castle was to operate? Dumbledore would probably just reply with a smiling "Oh," and then continue his Vienna vacation.

Anyway, I've already notified you. Whether you come back or not is your business, don't you think, Mr. Headmaster?

The dormitory door was flung open, and Ron rushed in, his face showing a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

"You'd never guess how George and Fred reacted after Professor McGonagall personally supervised the event and Mom might find out!" Ron gasped. "First, they screamed, then they frantically searched for blueprints and unfinished products on the other end of the phone video call, muttering things like 'safe mode,' 'child-friendly,' and 'absolutely gentle'— Fred even suggested adding a lullaby function to the Tactical Sleeping Treasure '! Merlin, I feel like we're not preparing training equipment, but designing rehabilitation toys for the children's ward at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, imagining the two lovable clones scrambling around.

"As long as it works. At least they won't send us a 'surprise' that sprays out rainbow-colored itching powder."

"Hopefully, there won't be any scares." Ron collapsed onto his bed. "Hermione has already compiled a list of eleven first-years—she said she wants to have one more as a backup. She's currently using her Quick-Quotes Quill to write informed consent letters to parents; I reckon the Owlery will be working overtime tonight. Neville and Seamus went to the Room of Requirement, saying they wanted to get a feel for the atmosphere first—I bet Seamus's up to something this time; hopefully Neville can keep an eye on him."

Harry thought about the task Professor McGonagall had given him earlier. He had considered making a detour to Vienna, but then changed his mind.

So he stretched and decided to take a nap first.

Harry's life motto was to sleep it off when problems arose and never engage in internal strife; making himself happy was the most important thing.

"Ron, let's go check on the Room of Requirement later. We can also help check Hermione's letter once it's finished."

Also, shouldn't the observation record form for the training day be designed in advance?

Ron looked at him with surprise. "Harry, weren't you supposed to be worrying about the Headmaster's affairs?"

"I've already worried about that." Harry shrugged, rolling over onto the bed. "Now, let's worry about things we can actually control—like sleeping."

A few days later, when the first owl landed on the Gryffindor Long Table with a thick letter, Hermione sensed that things might not be so simple.

She unwrapped the Parchment written in ornate calligraphy, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

"Abercrombie's parents—they're very supportive of the project," Hermione read, her tone slightly nuanced, "But they want to understand the training process in a safe and appropriate way, because they have some concerns about Abercrombie's ability to adapt to unfamiliar environments."

Ron, stuffing Meiji of bacon and fried egg into his mouth, mumbled, "Isn't this a good thing? It shows that parents care."

"It's not just the Abercrombie family." Hermione opened another letter, "There's also Mr. Lovegood. Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's father, who expressed complete trust in Hogwarts ' professionalism, but as a Ravenclaw House graduate, he has an academic interest in innovative teaching methods and inquired about the possibility of limited observation and writing an article on this innovative teaching method for publication in <The Quibbler>."

99

"Why do you think he's here to cause trouble?" Ron muttered, but didn't object.

Then came the third and fourth letters—as the owls continued to arrive around breakfast time, more and more replies expressed similar sentiments: support, but also a desire to observe.

Neville stared at the ever-growing pile of letters on the table, rubbing his hands nervously. "They—they don't trust us, do they?"

"Not entirely." Hermione quickly scanned the letters, still having time to look up and answer Neville's question. "Some were purely out of concern, some out of curiosity, and some, well, certainly carried a hint of scrutiny. After all, we're just students, and they're entrusting newly enrolled children with an informal training program. Professor McGonagall's approval and the parents' informed consent gave us legitimacy, but it couldn't completely dispel all the parents' doubts."

Seamus leaned over and glanced at a letter. "Wow, Luna's father is the editor-in-chief of <The Quibbler>, and he wants to use this as material for a report—is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Any external attention is pressure until things succeed," Hermione said calmly.

She tidied up the letters and looked at Harry, who hadn't said much.

"Harry, we need to make a decision. Should we decline all requests to observe and insist on closed training, or accept a small Observation Team composed of some parents?"

Harry had just finished a sip of Pumpkin Juice when he heard this and almost choked.

"Then let them come," he said with a smile. "This might not be a bad thing; after all, transparent communication is key to building trust."

"Alright," Hermione nodded. "Then we also need to prepare a briefing to explain the training objectives, procedures, and safety measures to the Observation Team before training begins."

"Should we prepare refreshments?" Seamus suddenly blurted out, then shrank back under everyone's surprised gazes. "My mother always complains about the lack of decent refreshments whenever she attends our school's events—"

Neville whispered, "My grandma always said that etiquette is very important in formal settings—"

Harry facepalmed.

"You're not freshmen, what are your parents doing here?" He waved his hand dismissively, like shooing away flies. "Go away, don't cause trouble here."

That afternoon, they stood at the vice Headmaster's Office door again, this time with a stack of letters from parents and Hermione's draft "Application and Management Plan for Limited Parent Observation of Pilot Training".

Professor McGonagall listened to their report with a blank expression. She carefully read Hermione's plan, especially the sections on the isolation of the observation area and the code of conduct for the observers.

"Miss Granger, you've thought this through very well," Professor McGonagall finally spoke, "So well that I wonder if you're trying to manage a Ministry of Magic meeting rather than a small after-school activity."

Hermione blushed slightly, but was mostly happy.

Professor McGonagall rarely praises people.

"I don't object in principle," Professor McGonagall said, adjusting her glasses. "The list needs to be submitted to me two days in advance."

After finalizing a few more details, they said goodbye to Professor McGonagall.

As Ron walked out of the office, he muttered, "I feel like we dug ourselves a hole and then jumped right in—"

"Fine, we're making sacrifices for Hogwarts too." Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "Instead of complaining here, you'd better put in some effort."

"I'd rather play games; I haven't logged in for days," Ron sighed. "I bet the top player on the ladder is already max level, while I'm still stuck at level 96."

"Not bad, I'm only level 91." Seamus rolled his eyes and said, "You're an electric mage, you level up really fast. Do you know how difficult it is for me, an ice mage who's immune to everything, to level up?"

Ron grinned.

At 1:30 p. m. on Saturday, the Room of Requirement appeared in a way that was unlike anything they had ever done before.

It was designed as a bright and open plaza, with a high dome simulating a spring sky dotted with soft clouds; the floor was made of light golden wood flooring, warm and non-slip; and the walls were occasionally adorned with murals of friendly Magical Creatures —it looked more like a bouncy castle from the magical world than a training ground for the Room of Requirement.

This was all thanks to Seamus and Neville's design, and Hermione was quite satisfied when she inspected it.

"I think you guys are just bored," Ron sighed. "Tell me, when we were first graders, we didn't have this kind of opportunity. Back then, when we were out night patrolling the Forbidden Forest —..."

"That was Harry encountering the Dark Lord all by himself," Neville added. "I remember he even threw a Harmless Minor Curses at the Dark Lord, didn't he, Harry?"

"Let's not dwell on the past." Harry waved his hand. "When we were in second year, didn't Ms. Rosier make us face the Inferi? It just shows how pampered kids are these days; each generation is worse than the last."

Hearing Harry's words, everyone exchanged glances, and all of them except Hermione sighed.

"Who says otherwise?" Draco chimed in from the side. "You guys don't know, several Slytherin parents have written to me asking if this activity can guarantee their children's safety—I really don't know how to answer that. Does Hogwarts put them in danger?"

"It's hard to say," Seamus shrugged. "Do you remember when we were in second grade, there was this Basilisk in the castle—oh, I think Pansy released it?"

"Shut up!" Pansy glared angrily at Seamus; this was a dark chapter in her past that she least wanted to revisit.

Seamus wisely kept his mouth shut, but his eyes darted around.