The Art of Homework

The next day, September 3rd, Tuesday, arrived.

At breakfast time, Harry and Hermione appeared at the table with panda eyes. Clearly, neither of them had slept well the night before.

There are two classes in the morning. Gryffindor have two Charms followed by two Transfiguration; Slytherin have the opposite, with two Transfiguration followed by two Charms.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick each spent fifteen minutes emphasizing the importance of the OWL exam to the whole class.

"Without serious study, practice, and application," Professor McGonagall said seriously, "You will not be able to pass the OWL exam. I believe that with the time and effort invested, none of you in this class should fail to obtain your OWL Transfiguration certificate." Professor McGonagall continued, "Today we will begin learning the Vanishing Spell. The Vanishing Spell is simpler than the Conjuring Spell, which you usually practice when you reach NEWT level, but it is still the most difficult spell to appear in your OWL exam."

The Vanishing Spell is arguably the most difficult spell a fifth-grade student will encounter in Transfiguration.

By the end of the two lessons, even Draco had failed to make their snail disappear, while Daphne succeeded on her third attempt, earning Slytherin a ten-point reward from Professor McGonagall Slytherin House.

Skylar had mastered this magic much earlier; he had even mastered the NEWT level Conjuring Spell and the Human Transfiguration. It could be said that Skylar could no longer learn anything useful in the mainstream Hogwarts curriculum.

Charms.

"You must remember," said the short, shrill Flitwick, who, as usual, stood atop a pile of books so he could see the whole class from the podium, "That these exams could affect your future for many years to come! If you haven't seriously considered your careers yet, now is the time to think about it. At the same time, to ensure you all perform to your full potential, we'll probably all have to work even harder than before!"

Next, they spent over an hour reviewing Summoning Charm, which, according to Flitwick, would definitely be on their OWL exams. Before the end of class, he assigned an unprecedentedly large number of spells as homework.

In the afternoon, Gryffindor has the Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology; Slytherin, on the other hand, can relax a bit after Care of Magical Creatures.

I don't know if it's because of what happened last year, or because this year is an exam year, Hagrid's teaching situation has greatly improved - no longer the terrifying monsters, or the boring Flobberworm.

The lesson content for this class is the Bowtruckle.

The weather was gloomy and cold, with a biting wind. As the students walked down the grassy slope toward Hagrid's Hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt a few raindrops falling on their faces.

Hagrid stood about ten meters away from the door of his Hagrid's Hut, waiting for his classmates. In front of him was a long shelf table with many thin branches on it. Inside the enclosure, several strange little creatures were hanging crookedly from the branches.

"Alright, students, today we're going to learn about the Bowtruckle!" Hagrid's booming voice echoed across the open hunting grounds.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood at the front of the crowd, flanked by Neville, Seamus, and other Gryffindor students. On the other side, the Slytherin group, led by Skylar, Draco, Daphne, Pansy, and others, stood lazily, looking ready to cause trouble at any moment.

"Bowtruckle?" Ron frowned, looking at the small creatures inside the enclosure that looked like tree branches. They had slender bodies and delicate limbs, and looked extremely fragile. They were gripping the bark with their claws and occasionally swaying like branches swaying in the wind.

"They're not just ordinary twigs," Hermione quickly added in a low voice, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Bowtruckle are guardians of trees, and they especially love living in wandwoods used by wizards, such as blackthorn plums, hawthorns, and even holly."

"Oh, Hermione, please, we didn't come here for a wand-making class," Ron sighed helplessly.

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco interrupted with a sneer, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "You'd be better off worrying about whether you can tame a Bowtruckle. I've heard they don't like clumsy people."

"Enough talk, Malfoy!" Ron retorted immediately.

Seeing that the two were about to start arguing again, Hagrid waved his hand, signaling them to be quiet. "Alright, alright, stop arguing! Bowtruckle are very docile little creatures, but they are picky about who they touch. If they don't think you're trustworthy, they won't let you touch them."

He gestured for everyone to gather around and demonstrated how to get the Bowtruckle to climb onto his hand. He stretched out a huge palm, gently placed his fingers in front of a Bowtruckle, and the little creature observed warily for a moment before slowly climbing onto Hagrid's arm.

"You guys should give it a try," Hagrid said with a smile, "And see if you can get them to trust you."

The students began trying to attract the Bowtruckle's attention. Hermione cautiously extended her finger, softly comforting the little creature before her. Soon, a Bowtruckle slowly climbed onto her palm, coiling around her finger, and Hermione smiled contentedly.

Harry tried too, and although it wasn't easy, he eventually managed to get a Bowtruckle to accept him. Neville, on the other hand, seemed a bit flustered; he was so nervous that the Bowtruckle avoided him and wouldn't come near.

"Hey, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Neville tried to persuade him gently, but the Bowtruckle remained hesitant, seemingly having no trust in him whatsoever.

"Look at this," Daphne remarked casually, having successfully positioned a Bowtruckle on her hand. She gently stroked it, her expression nonchalant, as if showing off her talent. "Clearly, they prefer charismatic people."

"Come on, Daphne," Pansy pouted. "It's just because your hands have that Bowtruckle- like bark smell on them."

"At least I did better than some people." Daphne glanced sideways at Ron and Neville, a hint of sarcasm in her eyes.

"Ha, of course," Draco dismissively, glancing contemptuously in Gryffindor's direction, his gaze lingering on Ron. "Look at your poor hands, rough as a farmer's. No wonder the Bowtruckle doesn't like them."

"What did you say?" Ron's face flushed red, and he clenched his fists, seemingly ready to rush up and punch Malfoy at any moment.

"Alright, stop making a racket like children." Skylar finally spoke. He had been standing at the back, seemingly uninterested in the competition. He stepped forward and casually pointed at a Bowtruckle inside the fence.

A strange thing happened—the Bowtruckle, which had been wary of everyone, climbed onto his finger without hesitation when Skylar approached, and even happily circled his wrist, as if it were being affectionate.

The entire classroom fell silent for a moment.

Hermione's eyes widened, Ron opened his mouth, while Draco smiled with satisfaction, "There's just no way around it, Skylar has this kind of talent."

"This is just not fair," Ron muttered under his breath. "How did he do that?"

Hermione stared at Skylar, remained silent for a few seconds, and then said thoughtfully, "Bowtruckle like intelligent and trustworthy people... They are also very sensitive to magic, so Skylar's magic is particularly attractive to them."

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered, annoyed. "This guy just got lucky."

However, when they saw all the Bowtruckle inside the fence scrambling to approach Skylar, everyone realized that this was probably not just luck.

After the lesson, the Slytherin students were noticeably more smug Gryffindor, especially Draco, who whispered and mocked the Gryffindor the whole way, while Pansy, Goyle, and Crabbe would occasionally burst into laughter.

Ron was naturally furious, while Harry, though mostly silent, frequently glanced thoughtfully at her. Harry didn't believe Skylar had done it by luck alone, but he also disagreed with Hermione's explanation—he believed Skylar must have used some obscure or rare magic to bewitch the Bowtruckle, or even, perhaps, it was some kind of Dark Arts...

Slytherin had no classes for the rest of the year, and everyone gathered in the common room to catch up on their homework.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin Common Room was oppressive and somber. Dark green flames flickered and crackled in the fireplace, reflecting the grim expressions on everyone's faces. Heavy worksheets were scattered across the ebony table, quills and parchment intertwined—a scene of busy yet desperate activity.

"This is torture!" Blaise Zabini groaned, his head resting on the table. "Professor Snape's paper on moonstones is at least two feet long... two feet! I've never even seen what moonstones look like!"

"Professor McGonagall is even worse!" Pansy muttered, rubbing her forehead vigorously. "The Vanishing Spell practice requires recording progress every day. God knows how many times I'll have to write 'I failed' in my journal."

"Don't forget Professor Binns," Draco sneered, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair as if unwilling to face reality. "The Giant Wars? We just finished Hagrid's lecture and have to hand in our papers right away... McGonagall, Snape, Binns, plus Hagrid's Bowtruckle paper—it's like putting us on the gallows."

"Can't you give me less homework?" Daphne sighed, rubbing her aching wrists. "I feel like my hands are going to break."

Everyone complained, and a gloomy atmosphere filled the common room. However, in this gloomy atmosphere, Skylar was a breath of fresh air—he leaned lazily against the sofa, holding a book that had nothing to do with the course, and even had a lazy smile on his face, as if he didn't care about the mountain of homework.

This bizarre contrast quickly attracted attention.

"Skylar, aren't you worried at all?" Blaise glanced at him, frowning. "Have you already finished writing it?"

Upon hearing this, Skylar slowly raised his head, smiled, and said nothing. He then slowly drew his wand and gently touched it to his temple. Subsequently, a silvery-white, gaseous substance was extracted from his brain, floating in the air like wisps of silk. The silvery light flowed gently like ripples on water, as if carrying some ineffable wisdom and memory.

Everyone was stunned.

Then, Skylar gently waved his wand, and the silvery-white threads of memory seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, slowly flowing into the three quill pens neatly arranged on the table. These three quill pens were entirely black, inlaid with dark gold patterns, as if flowing with mysterious magic.

Then, the magic happened--

Three quill pens moved simultaneously, as if controlled by an unseen hand, writing rapidly on the parchment. The pens nibs grazed the paper, making a smooth, scratching sound, accurately recording the words and sentences. Before long, neat and elegant papers appeared on the paper, each letter radiating calmness and wisdom.

The entire lounge fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone stared in disbelief at the scene before them, as if witnessing a magical miracle.

"... How did you do that?" After a long silence, Draco broke the silence first, asking in a complicated tone.

Skylar casually closed the book, a slight smile playing on his lips, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "This is just a small magical trick."

He casually waved his wand. "You've probably heard of the Pensieve, right? It stores memories, allowing us to revisit fragments of the past. What I just did was extract specific memories and knowledge from my mind, and then, using these quills, let them write them down for me."

"The key point is..." he paused, then slowly added, "If you can't clearly organize and summarize your memories in your mind, you won't be able to accurately retrieve the parts you need. In other words, you have to first learn to turn what's in your head into a knowledge base that can be retrieved at any time."

Everyone was stunned.

"You mean..." Daphne blinked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, "That you can systematically categorize all the knowledge you've acquired? And then simply extract whatever you want?"

Skylar nodded slightly. "More or less."

"This..." Blaise murmured, his gaze fixed on the three quills still writing rapidly, "This sounds even more difficult than the spell itself."

"Of course," Skylar shrugged, a half-smile on his face. "If your mind is a complete mess, don't expect to easily find the memories you're looking for."

Draco frowned and pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, "What about these quills? Ordinary automatic quills aren't this magical."

"These are specially made by the Hohenheim Family." Skylar extended a finger and gently tapped the quill's handle. "They are imbued with unique alchemical markings, capable of accurately reading information from memory and translating it into written language."

He paused, then added casually, "This isn't something you can buy anywhere else."

The lounge was deathly silent, everyone lost in deep thought.

Then--

"This isn't fair," Nott muttered to himself, a deep envy welling up inside him. Although his family was also known for its alchemy, he had never seen an automatic quill pen of this caliber.

"Yeah, Skylar, you're practically cheating." Blaise sighed, looking envious. "You have such a cheat code, it's unfair."

Pansy stared intently at Skylar: "Can I rent a quill pen from you for Galleon?"

"I'll double," Daphne immediately added.

"You guys are really..." Draco rolled his eyes, but his eyes were also full of envy. "Skylar, have you ever considered starting a loan business? I think you could make a lot of money."

Skylar chuckled and shook his head, seemingly not intending to share this special convenience.

He extended his finger and flicked it lightly. The three quill pens paused in the air for a moment, then the tips trembled slightly, writing the final period beautifully before falling back onto the desk in unison.

"Alright." Skylar stood up, stretched, and loosened his shoulders. "The paper's finished. I have a Charms Club event later, so I'll be going now."

As he turned around, the quill and parchment on the table vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving a room full of stunned Slytherin students, lost in profound reflection on the gap in human intelligence.