Hearing Draco's words and tone, Herman momentarily mistook Harry for standing in front of him.
That sarcastic tone, that sarcastic angle, that slightly condescending tone at the end—it's practically a carbon copy of Harry Quinn.
Damn it, when did Draco turn into Harry Quinn's likeness? And more importantly, not her own likeness! How infuriating!
As Herman was thinking about Harry, footsteps came from the other end of the long table.
Harry walked over from the direction of the Entrance Hall, her school uniform neatly worn, her hair combed sleekly, and her face showing no signs of just waking up; she had probably been up and exercising for a while.
She sat down next to Draco, glanced at Draco who was yawning, and then at Herman, whose face was pale and eyes were lifeless.
"Did you get bitten by Vampire?" Harry said, her tone as flat as if she were commenting on the weather. "You're as pale as if you've been drained of blood."
Herman wasn't in the mood to pay attention to Harry's complaints; all his energy was focused on fighting off sleepiness.
His eyelids felt like they were filled with lead; every blink felt like he wanted to keep them closed for just a couple more seconds, but he knew that if he kept them closed for more than three seconds, he might never be able to open them again.
He sat at the table, chin in hand, waiting for the House-elf him food.
Seeing that he didn't speak, Harry turned and started chatting with Draco.
The two voices echoed in the empty Great Hall. Herman couldn't quite make out the specifics, but he knew that Draco was complaining about a professor assigning too much homework, and Harry occasionally chimed in with a few words, her tone indifferent.
After about fifteen minutes, the House-elf finally began to eat.
Bread, jam, fried eggs, and sausages appeared one by one on the table, steaming hot.
Herman, still half-asleep, stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and then gulped down half a cup of Pumpkin Juice.
Draco and Harry were still chatting, occasionally handing him some food, which he mechanically took and ate, without tasting anything at all.
After breakfast, Herman followed the two to the Transfiguration classroom.
His legs were moving, and his eyes were open, but his brain had entered a semi-dormant state, and all his movements were accomplished through muscle memory and instinct.
During the Transfiguration, he didn't hear a thing Professor McGonagall said.
Fortunately, Herman's basic skills were solid enough, and the previous few weeks of study had already kept his Transfiguration level stable in the upper-middle range of the class.
Even when half asleep, his Transfiguration was better than most people's.
As Professor McGonagall passed by his desk, she glanced at his matchstick-turned-silver-needle. The needles were fairly well-shaped, but the surface was a bit rough, as if they hadn't been fully polished. She said nothing and continued walking.
Herman thus passed the Transfiguration unnoticed.
It wasn't until noon, after he finished lunch and went back to his dormitory for a nap, that he finally came to his senses.
The afternoon Flying Class was nothing special.
Madam Hooch stood at the front of the group and gave a few safety instructions, then let everyone move around freely.
The students rode brooms around a few times, but after the initial excitement wore off, most of them started slacking off.
After all, the experience of flying broomsticks is really not that great. There is no windshield, no seat back, and you sit on a stick and pass through the air at high speed. It feels even bumpier than riding a mountain bike on a gravel road.
Herman flew around three or four times before landing. He found a shady spot in a corner of the playground, leaned against the fence, and sat down, squinting his eyes as he waited for class to end.
Most of the students were in similar situations; some were dozing off in the stands, some were chatting by the field, and very few were still actually flying in the air.
Of course, there are exceptions.
Herman saw from afar that Harry and Neville were being called away by Madam Hooch to the other side of the field.
Madam Hooch stood in front of the two men, saying something. Both of them were holding brooms, and judging from their posture, they seemed to be receiving special instruction.
Harry's broom is the Nimbus 2000 that Sirius gave her; the silver broom handle gleams in the sunlight.
Neville's broom was an old one from the school; it's unclear whether Professor McGonagall wasn't planning to give it away or if it just wasn't time yet.
As for Madam Hooch's special instruction, Herman guessed that it was Professor McGonagall's instruction.
With Neville joining the Gryffindor Quidditch Team as the Son of the Champion, McGonagall will definitely want to give her students extra lessons, arranging for Madam Hooch to provide private instruction.
Harry was probably just dragged into it. After all, McGonagall, as the vice-principal, although her heart was with Gryffindor, still had to appear fair on the surface. It was impossible for anyone to find fault with having two newcomers who had joined the team early tutoring each other.
The sun slowly moved westward from above the stadium, its light changing from a blinding white to a gentle orange.
Herman leaned against the fence and dozed off. When he was woken up by the school bell, his neck felt a little sore, but he felt much better.
Being young, he didn't sleep all night, but a few naps during the day restored his energy.
Herman ate very quickly at dinner.
He picked up a piece of steak, forked a few sausages, and gulped down a glass of Pumpkin Juice. While chewing, his gaze swept across the long table to the professors on the stage.
Dumbledore sat in the middle, talking to Professor McGonagall beside him.
Snape sat in his seat, cutting his steak at a leisurely pace, occasionally glancing at the Slytherin table.
Quirrell was there too, sitting in his usual spot, his blond hair gleaming softly in the candlelight.
Beside him, Gori was slowly sipping a wine glass filled with a bright red beverage, occasionally glancing at the students below.
Herman looked away, finished his food in a few bites, then turned to Draco and whispered a few words in her ear.
"I have to go out for a bit. You guys go back to your dorms after you finish eating, don't wait for me."
Draco was eating a piece of pudding when her spoon stopped in mid-air. She turned to look at him and asked, "What are you doing out so late? Is there anything fun to do?"
"I'm going to the library to find some books," Herman casually made up an excuse.
Draco looked at him suspiciously, but with the pudding still in her mouth, she didn't bother to ask any further questions.
She just mumbled a vague "hmm" and continued to deal with her dessert.
Herman stood up, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and left through the aisle on the side of the Slytherin table. He bypassed the students still seated at the table, passed through the side door of the Great Hall, and entered the corridor leading deeper into the castle.
The candlelight in the corridor was much dimmer than in the Great Hall. He walked up the stone steps, his pace quickening compared to the daytime, his mind already planning his arrangements for the evening.
First, go to the Room of Requirement and finish reading Chapter Two of Dumbledore's book. Then practice some magic and see if you can get a feel for it by following the hints in the book. After that, go find Professor Malin; you still need to learn some quick-fix evil magic.
I didn't see Professor Malin on the stage. I guess she was in her office researching Alchemy. After all, with such a grand goal as creating artificial souls, it's easy to forget something as trivial as eating.