Important Friends

Hogwarts classes were generally divided into two periods, with a break in between.

During the second period, Professor McGonagall gave a detailed explanation of the mistakes the young witches and wizards had frequently made in the previous class.

This time, several more students successfully transformed their matches into needles. Neville, meanwhile, successfully transformed his into a needle's butt.

"If you put last lesson's needlepoint together with this lesson's needle tail, Mr. Longbottom can be considered successful as well," Professor McGonagall commented.

After class, Neville walked up to Silan with his books clutched to his chest. "Silan, I want to thank you again. Really."

"You're welcome, Neville. We're friends. It's nothing."

Neville's grip on his books slowly tightened, his fingernails unconsciously scraping across the covers. To him, the word "friend" was far too precious.

"Yes, we're friends. If there's ever anything you need help with, please tell me. I mean, I'd be happy to help you." Neville gathered his courage and said the words he had been rehearsing all class.

This was a challenge for him.

Back in primary school, he had said similar things to people he thought were his "friends."

All he got in return was laughter. "If I ever got to the point of needing your help, I'd rather die!"

Though he knew Silan was not that kind of person, Neville was still a little nervous.

Years of bullying had nearly stripped away all his confidence. Deep down, he had even accepted the labels others had put on him.

"Um... although I probably can't be much help..." Neville added quietly.

"No, Neville. You're important. You're an important friend to me." Silan smiled and held out his hand.

"Oh, thank you, thank you."

Neville was overjoyed and kept thanking him. It took him quite a while to remember that he still had a History of Magic class to attend.

"Goodbye, Silan." Neville turned to head for the classroom, his face still beaming.

Silan called after him and reminded him helplessly, "The History of Magic classroom is this way."

After Transfiguration, they still had a History of Magic class.

The professor was a ghost named Professor Binns. He was Hogwarts's only ghost professor.

Though his teaching style was incredibly dull and monotonous enough to make most students drowsy, it had to be said that his knowledge of magical history was astonishingly extensive.

Professor Binns had taught at Hogwarts while he was still alive.

One day, he fell asleep before the fireplace in the staff room and passed away. The next day, he simply got up as a ghost and went to teach as though nothing had happened, without even realizing he was dead.

Silan felt that it was precisely this model-worker spirit that had earned him a lifetime iron rice bowl.

Just think about it. Asking Dumbledore to dismiss a teacher who had died in the line of duty and still remained at his post was rather hard to bring up.

Though Professor Binns's dedication after dying in the line of duty was admirable, his classes were simply too boring.

When he lectured, he was almost completely immersed in his own world and paid no attention to whether the students understood him.

He merely read from the textbook in a breathy, droning voice, dragging out every syllable.

It felt like sitting through a holographic online class.

Still, the students did not particularly hate the class.

If a teacher never took attendance, never called on students, lectured when class began and left when it ended, and did not care whether you slept or daydreamed, then even if they were considered an easy teacher, students would not dislike them.

At first, Silan tried to keep up with Professor Binns's pace.

Later, he realized the professor was far too absorbed in himself, and his tone was so strange that it felt like a swarm of bees endlessly buzzing beside his ears.

Reading on his own was much more comfortable.

The other students were also slumped crookedly over their desks. Some caught up on sleep, while others stared blankly into space.

Only one person in the entire classroom was listening with bright eyes.

That was Hermione.

As for Silan, he had already started slacking off.

As for the homework, he could just copy Hermione's later.

Silan took out his money and counted it.

Twenty Galleons won from Theodore Nott, one Galleon generously gifted by Prefect Rowle, and the remaining Hogwarts education funds: fifteen Sickles.

Twenty-one Galleons and fifteen Sickles—this was a huge sum to Silan.

Though exchange rates fluctuated somewhat, under normal circumstances, one Galleon could be exchanged for roughly five pounds at Gringotts.

That meant Silan had around one hundred and ten pounds on him now.

In England in 1991, one hundred and ten pounds was enough for an ordinary family to live on for several weeks.

Seeing Silan count his money, Chris clenched his teeth like a powerless husband, yet he dared not show his anger.

That's my allowance for an entire term!

My money! My money!

Still, it was not enough for Silan.

Leaving aside the fact that he liked money and felt good simply looking at it even without spending it, he also needed more money.

Although tuition, food, and lodging at Hogwarts were free, certain potion ingredients and magical items were not.

If he wanted to brew potions, he could not exactly steal ingredients from Snape's private storeroom, could he?

At least, not yet.

Besides that, he was planning to send the people at the orphanage to school.

Knowledge was power.

A group of uneducated orphans could only be of limited help to him. At most, they could make a little pocket money.

His ambitions did not stop there. If he sent them to school, they could become his foundation in the Muggle world.

With education and knowledge, they could help him handle many things.

But there were quite a few people at the orphanage, and the money he had in hand was obviously nowhere near enough.

"Tsk... I need to make money..."

"But how? Brew potions and sell them in Hogsmeade?"

"I could make money from my classmates too. Those pure-blood families are all loaded. They're fat sheep..."

Just as Silan was considering how to make money, news of Chris apologizing to Neville had already spread through the school.

People interpreted the matter in their own way and described it as Slytherin apologizing to Gryffindor.

As word spread from person to person, the story was distilled into its most shocking and emotionally compelling form, spreading through the student body in an almost brutal fashion.

While the young witches and wizards discussed the matter, Dumbledore was feeding Fawkes in the headmaster's office.

It was a phoenix that had accompanied Dumbledore for a very, very long time.

Since it was not yet time for its rebirth, it looked exceptionally beautiful. Its body was covered in golden and crimson feathers, and its long tail feathers glittered in the sunlight.

"Oh, old friend. What do you think of Silan?"

Fawkes lowered its head and continued eating, ignoring Dumbledore's muttering.

Dumbledore popped a cockroach-shaped sweet into his mouth, returned to his chair, and slowly tapped his fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm.

By lunchtime, the news that Slytherin had apologized to Gryffindor had spread through almost the entire school.

Even Snape had heard about it.

He was currently standing by the window of his office, leaving it open a narrow crack as he watched the students outside.

Harry and Ron were walking beneath his window.

"Oh, that boy has certainly made quite a name for himself. He's only just arrived, and he's already as famous as you."

Looking down from above, Snape did not see those green eyes. He silently shut the window.

He needed to prepare his first Potions class for the new young witches and wizards.