Slytherin Gains Five Points

"Has everyone finished reading?" he asked.

"Very well, then, I shall begin asking questions. Please note, you do not need to raise your hand to indicate you wish to answer. Because everyone will be asked at least three times this semester. Please be prepared."

He stood on the podium with his hands behind his back, his long black hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He Shenyan said, "Mr. Draco Malfoy, please stand up."

Harley turned her head to look; Malfoy stood up, his face pale.

"Please tell me, can the total amount of magic power be increased through acquired effort?"

He Shenyan asked unhurriedly. Malfoy swallowed, his voice low and tinged with weakness: "It—it can, Professor. I believe it can."

Harley saw a smile appear on the professor's face: "Not bad, five points to Slytherin. Please sit."

Malfoy sat down, relieved, and let out a long breath. For some reason, he always felt a sense of pressure when facing this young new professor, a pressure so great it filled him with instinctive awe.

"Mr. Malfoy is quite right; the total amount of magic power can be increased through acquired effort. In about a week, I will teach everyone how to meditate. If you find that the classmates around you are progressing faster than you, please do not be discouraged, and do not feel that you lack talent and wish to give up. Remember one thing: the amount of magic power is not the standard for determining whether you are a qualified mage."

He Shenyan continued: "Mr. Ron Weasley, please stand up."

Ron stood up so quickly that his knee even banged against the desk. Yet, he didn't cry out in pain.

Anyone could see his nervousness, but no one mocked him, not even Malfoy. This new professor seemed to possess an ability that made everyone unconsciously serious.

Harley heard Professor He ask: "Please tell me, what is the process of spellcasting?"

Ron stammered: "Uh, use spirit and will to drive magic power, use imagination to construct a spell model, and finally use magic power to release the spell model. Is—is that right, Professor?"

"Very good, five points to Gryffindor. Please sit down, Mr. Weasley. I have a few points to add, and I hope you will write them down. Oh, I notice many of you did not bring notebooks. That is my fault for forgetting to remind you, my apologies."

He snapped his fingers, and everyone received a pen and a black cowhide notebook.

Once they had all picked up their pens and were ready to record, He Shenyan spoke again.

"This process, as I have written it, is quite detailed, so you might find it somewhat difficult to understand. But in truth, it is very simple; for mages, it is a matter of course. How many of you have ever caused things around you to change due to emotional agitation?"

Quite a few people raised their hands.

"Exactly. In that moment, your intense emotions drove the magic power, allowing it to do what you had imagined. The essence of spellcasting is using your will to influence the reality of the world—please write this sentence down; it will be on the exam."

"Furthermore, please do not write irrelevant content in your notebooks. I will conduct spot checks at the end of the term, and this will also affect your final grades. If you fail, you will be held back a year."

The students gasped, and He Shenyan smiled—ha! Who hadn't been a student once?

The class lasted from nine-thirty until twelve o'clock, at which point it was dismissed.

They went off in twos and threes to have lunch. Ron talked to Harley about the professor's teaching style: "Good heavens! He's so strict, isn't he? I never imagined he would give us so many rules right off the bat!"

Hermione said from the side: "Strict? I think it's fine! Besides, he's actually very responsible; he even gave notebooks to those of you who didn't bring one."

As she said this, she waved her hand proudly, indicating she had brought her own.

Harley nodded: "I'm already looking forward to meditation, but when I flipped to page forty-five, the words were blurred. Only one sentence was clear: Please wait for the course progress; do not attempt to meditate on your own."

Ron looked at her, shocked: "You actually read that far ahead? I couldn't even stand the first three pages! There's too much theory!"

Harley and Hermione exchanged a look, and they both concluded that Ron might be allergic to reading.

During lunch, they heard many older students complaining that the new curriculum was too difficult; the idea of casting spells without a wand was completely unimaginable.

Ron said thoughtfully: "It's fine."

Harley was cutting the steak on her plate and asked: "What's fine?"

"It's fine that my wand is a hand-me-down from my brother; I won't feel bad even if I throw it away."

He laughed. Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed out a problem without hesitation: "If even the older students think the course is too difficult, then you should worry more about whether we'll be able to pass the exam."

The previously cheerful atmosphere froze at Hermione's words. Many freshmen at their long table had heard her, and their expressions became just as gloomy as the older students'.

After Hermione finished speaking, Ron stared blankly ahead, as if he could already see himself failing the exam. Harley shook her head, finished her steak, and picked up a vanilla ice cream to eat.

By the time dinner arrived that day, this heavy atmosphere was even more apparent.

Every student wore a solemn expression. Many were actually carrying Basic Theory of Magic into the Great Hall, reading while they ate, taking great care not to splash soup on the pages.

Professor McGonagall looked at this scene in disbelief and whispered to Flitwick beside her: "Merlin's beard, what is going on?"

The small professor smiled and said: "Minerva! Whatever the situation, I am happy to see their abundant energy being put to good use. Besides, weren't we the same a month ago?"

Snape's gaze darted between his dinner plate and the Slytherin table. He ate his food in silence and then left directly.

He arrived at his office on the basement level. The original Potions classroom would clearly not be used this year, but he had learned from Mr. He that Potions was still an important subject in their world, though slightly different from what the wizards practiced.

He looked forward to the day he would learn new potions.

For the first time in ages, he lit his long-unused fireplace and used magic to move all the glass jars containing strange things on the shelves into a large crate. He also cleaned the dust off the floor. The walls were dim and lightless, and he frowned at the sight. He cast a simple spell: a Lumos-like Spell.

It was a basic spell similar to Lumos, yet fundamentally different. Its function was to release a lasting light source that could be fixed, shaped, and lit or extinguished according to the caster's own will.

A ball of light emitting a soft, warm glow floated up to the ceiling, filling the room with warm radiance.

After finishing all this, he straightened his clothes and hair and sat in his chair. He took out some documents and made a show of being very busy. In reality, he didn't even move his pen.

After a while, there was a knock at his office door. Snape straightened his back and tried to keep his voice from wavering: "Come in."

A red-haired girl pushed the door open and walked in. She had her hands behind her back, walked all the way to Snape, and handed him a vanilla ice cream.

"For you, Professor. I noticed you didn't have dessert today," Harley said with a smile.

"...Thank you." Snape stared blankly at the ice cream. He took it and had a bite.

"Not bad. Five points to Slytherin," he said, his expression unchanged.