"Ring ring--"
The old, long school bell rang precisely at the castle's corridors.
The ringing bell instantly silenced the murmurs of doubt that filled the air, replacing them with a quietude that suggested the start of a class.
At least on the surface.
Almost as soon as the bell rang, a figure silently passed through the front door of the classroom.
It's Professor Binns.
He arrived right on time; the ringing of the bell was the signal that he had arrived.
This professor of the History of Magic is Hogwarts ' oldest ghost.
Its spirit form was indeed quite different from that of the Bloody Baron and the Nearly Headless Nick and other ghosts.
However, if Nick and his companions were bright, pearly white, then Professor Binns was a dull hue, as if covered in the dust of time.
His body had a grayish, semi-transparent texture.
The edges of the body were blurred and indistinct, as if it might dissipate at any moment with the movement of the air.
This makes his image always seem somewhat insincere.
Students would have to concentrate fully if they wanted to see his facial features and clothing details clearly.
At that moment, a strange scene unfolded in the classroom.
Dozens of little heads, whether they were Gryffindor lions or Hufflepuff badgers, all craned their necks, widened their eyes, and focused intently on that gray shadow.
Professor Binns was not only pale, but also extremely slow in his movements.
He was probably a slow-moving old scholar in life, and this sluggishness seems to have been amplified infinitely in his ghost form after death, or rather, completely solidified.
He drifted in at a speed barely faster than the slowest snail in the Forbidden Forest Hogwarts.
Moreover, the trajectory is straight and rigid, lacking any of the lightness and elusiveness commonly found in ghosts, and showing absolutely no agility.
He floated straight toward the podium from the doorway at a constant and unsettlingly slow pace.
Two minutes.
It took him a full two minutes to float the distance of no more than ten feet from the doorway to the podium.
The process was incredibly agonizing for the students in the audience who were trying their best to stay alert.
It didn't feel like waiting for a professor to give a lecture, but rather like watching a solemn and slow spacewalk, where every second felt so long it was breathtaking.
Finally, just as everyone was starting to feel their necks ache and their eyelids grow heavy, Professor Binns's dusty body finally settled into the chair behind the podium.
Rather than sitting down, it's more like being submerged in the space corresponding to the chair.
His body blurred and merged with the edge of the chair.
It's hard to distinguish where his robes end and where the wood grain of the chair ends; it's as if the two are one.
After sitting down, he even skipped the usual opening remarks.
The indistinct head turned slightly, and then began its lecture in a voice that could be described as Hogwarts' most powerful hypnotic weapon.
How can I describe that sound?
Monotonous, dry, and devoid of any variation.
Like sun-dried bean pods rubbing against each other in the wind, making a soft, monotonous sound.
He simply read from his notes, which had been there for who knows how long.
His speech was as even as the ticking of a clock, without the slightest interruption.
It's like a phonograph with a pre-programmed sequence, just rolling forward in a straight line, tireless and inflexible.
Occasionally, he would use his translucent hands to painstakingly pick up a small piece of chalk from the podium.
Then, he would write a few crooked key points on the blackboard.
Each stroke took a long time, making the students in the audience anxious and wishing they could finish writing for him.
The act of writing itself is enough to make even the most alert student feel as if time has stood still.
Soon, only two voices remained in the classroom.
One was Professor Binns' hypnotic buzzing.
Secondly, there are a small number of diligent students.
The students' quills moved slower and slower as they wrote on the parchment.
It's easy to feel sleepy at night.
The feeling of fullness after dinner spread through my body, and the deepening night in the castle seeped in through the windows, while the warm yellow light from the torches on the classroom walls flickered dazzlingly.
Everything amplified this feeling of drowsiness infinitely...
All of this constitutes the perfect breeding ground for hypnosis.
Professor Binns's dry and tedious narration was the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Soon, all sorts of problems arose at the Gryffindor table.
Seamus's head began to nod slowly, his eyelids felt as heavy as lead, as if they might droop at any moment.
Dean rested his chin on his hand, his eyes beginning to glaze over, staring blankly at his textbook, but clearly his mind was already wandering elsewhere.
Neville tried to widen his eyes, but they were completely blank.
Ron was still sulking from the argument, his cheeks still flushed, but his anger couldn't withstand this level of mental attack for long.
Gradually, Ron's head also drooped.
Only when Ron occasionally thinks of Draco would he suddenly snap out of his reverie, glaring angrily at the platinum-gold figure in front of him.
Then I was quickly overwhelmed by a wave of drowsiness, and my eyelids became so heavy that I couldn't keep them open.
Harry is holding on, fueled by his fascination with the magical world and his inherent resilience.
But he would occasionally sneak a small yawn.
His eyes were bloodshot, clearly struggling with drowsiness.
The Hufflepuff, on the other hand, demonstrated the resilience and patience characteristic of their school.
Although a few people began to have glazed eyes and their heads swayed slightly.
But most of the badger cubs still tried to straighten their backs and keep up with Professor Binns's incomprehensible narration.
They would occasionally scribble a few lines in their notebooks, even if it was just mechanically copying a few words, but they were unwilling to give up easily.
Macmillan sat up straight, his expression very serious.
Although his eyes also looked slightly tired, he was clearly trying his best to maintain the dignity of an excellent student, and the tip of his pen moved intermittently on the parchment.
In the entire Gryffindor, there are probably only four individuals who can truly be considered "resilient".
One is Hermione Granger.
She seemed to have transformed all her chaotic emotions into a weapon against Professor Binns' hypnotic magic.
She sat upright, her back not bent at all.
His brown eyes widened, intently following Professor Binns's blurry figure and the words on the blackboard that seemed ready to vanish at any moment.
Her quill moved swiftly across the parchment, producing a clear and continuous rustling sound.
The sound contrasted sharply with the increasingly listless brushstrokes around it.
She seemed determined to prove her clarity of mind, to refute Ron's accusations, and to declare to everyone that her choice was based on reason, not external control, through absolute focus and diligence.
Or perhaps... it was to suppress the chaotic thoughts in her mind about the person beside her.
Knowledge became her best shield and tranquilizer at this moment, isolating her from external prying eyes and the turmoil in her heart.
The second one is Draco.
Even Draco himself had to admit that Professor Binns's class was the ultimate test of willpower.
He had experienced boring classes in his previous life.
But it is extremely rare to find someone who has cultivated boredom and hypnosis to such an unparalleled level.
The buzzing sound, like the most stubborn hypnotic spell, kept trying to penetrate his eardrums, numb his nerves, and drag him into the abyss of slumber.
He could feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and his thoughts would occasionally drift to unimportant things.
But he remembered what he had told Hermione.
I want to be like you.
If you can't even stay alert in a class like this, how can you talk about becoming as outstanding as her?
This thought acted like a wake-up call, instantly bringing him to his senses.
Draco could only try to keep an eye on the girl's every little movement out of the corner of his eye in order to combat his drowsiness.
Looking at her focused profile, watching the pen tip move so quickly, and noticing her slightly furrowed brow as she became engrossed in her work.
As he stared at it, he quickly thought of something even more fun.
He shifted his body subtly, seemingly adjusting his posture slightly due to sitting for too long.
Her arm naturally fell from the position of resting her chin on her hand, and her elbow accidentally bumped into Hermione's arm, which was resting on the edge of the table.
Hermione shuddered, and the hairs on her body stood on end.
I was instantly jolted awake from my state of complete concentration.
Her pen suddenly stopped, leaving an abrupt ink mark on the parchment, ruining the originally neat notes.