A History of Magic

The afternoon class was A History of Magic, shared by Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Sitting diagonally in front of Wade was a pale blond boy accompanied by two chubby little cronies. Wade recognized him as Draco Malfoy, the minor antagonist who had clashed with the protagonist for seven years in the original story. But Slytherin and Ravenclaw got along reasonably well, and Malfoy did not go around spraying venom at everyone he met. Other than his haughty manner of speaking and his fondness for casually showing off his family background and wealth, he was fairly polite in class.

But toward his archrival, Harry Potter, he would certainly have a different attitude.

When Professor Binns floated through the wall into the classroom, Malfoy was still badmouthing Harry Potter to his cronies. "He shows off that scar on his forehead all day, as though it makes him so special—then he hangs around with those stinking Weasleys, getting that shabby smell of theirs all over himself—"

The Ravenclaws around them all glanced over and quietly edged farther away from the Slytherins.

—Whatever might happen in the future, Harry Potter was still a hero in the eyes of countless wizards. Most of the children at school had practically grown up hearing his stories. Draco Malfoy's remarks naturally rubbed everyone the wrong way, while also reminding them of certain facts that had been buried away.

"I heard Malfoy—I mean, Draco Malfoy's father was a Death Eater who followed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—" Michael said to Wade in an almost whispered voice. "Apparently, after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated by Harry Potter, his father claimed he had been under the Imperius Curse. He also donated a huge amount of money to the Ministry of Magic, which was how he escaped prison. Just look at him. His father obviously still resents Harry Potter for defeating his master, so he must have picked it up through constant exposure..."

Wade shook his head inwardly. He knew Draco Malfoy probably had not thought that much about it. At first, he seemed to have wanted to befriend Harry Potter, but his arrogant attitude had offended Harry Potter—what spoiled young master had ever suffered such humiliation? That was why he had persistently opposed the Savior ever since.

"Don't take it lightly, and don't get too close to Malfoy," Michael warned. "Among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, his family is one of the most obsessed with blood purity."

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight?" This touched upon a gap in Wade's knowledge.

"Twenty-eight pure-blood families, with no Muggles among their ancestors and no one in their families married to Muggles," Michael said dismissively. "But my dad says it's all nonsense, because many of the families on the list have Muggle ancestors—or claim to have Muggle ancestors."

It had to be said that A History of Magic was truly an unbearably boring class. The ghost professor, Binns, taught straight from the textbook in a voice that was practically hypnotic. He neither asked questions nor cared what the students were doing. His speech came with a wheezing sound, and his tone was vague and unclear. In less than five minutes, half the class had slumped onto their desks. Of the remaining half, most were either dozing off or secretly drawing grids on their note parchment to play board games.

Wade blocked out Professor Binns's hypnotic voice and drew a timeline on his parchment, listing important dates, historical figures, and major events in magical history—the Wizarding World's history exams tested precisely these things. On Wade's desk also lay a copy of Hogwarts: A History borrowed from the library. Comparing the two, one could not help wondering what stirring adventures and struggles Hogwarts's four founders had experienced throughout history, and what role Hogwarts had played over the thousand years that followed.

History itself was actually very interesting. Professor Binns simply made the class utterly devoid of charm.

The moment class ended, Professor Binns's voice stopped abruptly. He slowly floated through the wall and left. Wade woke Michael, and the two headed to the library to finish their A History of Magic assignment—a one-foot essay on the reign of terror of Emeric the Evil.

"No one in all of Hogwarts is more hardworking than you," Michael muttered as he did his homework. "I'd bet the other students will all wait until the last day to write theirs!"

Before he had even finished speaking, a swaying figure passed nearby—Hermione was carrying a thick stack of books. When she saw Wade, she stopped and set them down on the table. Michael felt as though the entire desk had shaken.

"Hi, Wade." Hermione greeted him, sat down directly, and asked, "How's Ravenclaw?"

"Nothing bad, except there are too many stairs to climb," Wade said. "Hermione, this is Michael Corner. Michael, this is Hermione Granger. We met on the train."

"Hello." Hermione possessed the bold, enthusiastic spirit of a little Lion. She held out her hand directly. "You're a Ravenclaw too?"

Michael looked at the height of the stack of books, swallowed, shook her hand, and hesitated. "P-possibly?"

In front of these two, he deeply felt that perhaps he did not deserve to call himself a Ravenclaw.

"—Possibly?" Hermione frowned.

As though feeling the bloodline suppression of some food chain, Michael seemed to shrink a little. He asked quietly, "Can I ask... why did you bring so many books? You're not planning to read all of them, are you?"

"Of course! These are the books I plan to finish this week," Hermione said as though it were only natural.

Michael's face turned ashen. He looked at Wade with his eyes—what was going on? A week? She was even more intense than you?

Wade merely raised an eyebrow at him.

Michael stopped complaining about Wade dragging him here to do homework. He lowered his head and focused on finishing the rest of his essay, while Wade, who had already completed his own, continued working on his timeline.

"Oh, this method of yours is quite useful." Hermione leaned over to take a look and suggested, "But I think combining it with Muggle history would be more enlightening."

"Mm, I was planning to add that later." Wade pushed the finished part toward her. "You've read more books than I have. Could you help me see whether anything in this section needs revising?"

"Let me see." Hermione did not refuse. After carefully reading it through, she said, "Here—the exact time Wands originated is unknown. Melaina Simms's main contribution was researching the magical properties of eighteen Wand woods, proposing Wand compatibility theory and Simms' Formula..."

She pulled a book from her pile and flipped it open with a rustle. "In 382 BC, the Ollivander Family began making Wands. To this day, the best Wandmakers are still the Ollivanders. I think this is likely to be on the test too..."

The quill raced across the parchment. From time to time, Madam Pince cast watchful glances in their direction, as though ready to throw them all out the moment they started making too much noise.

Meanwhile, Michael, rushing to finish his essay, only felt smaller and smaller. After listening for a while, he silently pulled out a sheet of parchment, intending to copy Wade's revised timeline of magical history. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He nudged Wade with his elbow and whispered, "Look!"

Theo was standing outside the library door, peering inside. He had probably just returned from Herbology class and still had soil from the Greenhouse on him, so Madam Pince would not let them enter. Meeting Wade and Michael's gazes, Theo happily waved at them, signaling for them to come out.

Wade said goodbye to Hermione and packed up with Michael before heading outside. Seeing Ryan and Theo standing at the entrance, both of them filthy from head to toe, he asked, "Is something urgent?"

The two Hufflepuffs exchanged glances. Ryan gestured with his chin. "You tell him. You were the one who asked Professor Sprout."

Theo smiled. "Wade, didn't you say this morning that you wanted to find a quiet place to practice spells? Professor Sprout, who teaches Herbology, is the head of Hufflepuff. After class, I stayed behind to help her. When I was done, I worked up the courage to ask—"