Over at the Gryffindor seating area, Neville and Hugo leaned against each other. Neville rubbed his eyes and yawned, while Hugo seemed a bit more energetic, but judging from the weak state of her hand when she greeted him, she wasn't much better.
Ron was already slumped over the table, seemingly having completely given up the struggle.
Herman and Draco sat down in the Slytherin area, with Harry sitting on the other side of Draco.
The area behind the teacher's podium at the front of the classroom was empty, but not long after, a semi-transparent white figure emerged from behind the blackboard.
Professor Binns's face was blurred, his features as if looking at people through frosted glass, and the outline of his figure was slightly blurred. He floated to the front of the podium and stopped.
Herman glanced at Professor Binns's perpetually indifferent face and silently thought to himself: Ghosts are great, they ignore terrain, pass through walls, saving the trouble of opening doors and not having to think about where those messy staircases in Hogwarts Castle lead.
Professor Binns didn't offer any opening remarks, not even a simple "Good morning," and began. "Today we'll begin with the origins of Ancient Magic, which is covered in the first section of the first chapter of our History of Magic textbook. Open your textbooks."
His voice was so flat that there was no discernible rise and fall; it was a single tone from beginning to end, as if he were being pressed back and forth on a straight line.
Herman flipped through the thick textbook on the History of Magic in front of him, glanced at the densely packed printed words, and his eyelids began to droop.
Someone nearby was already giving up. A boy to the left of Slytherin suddenly slumped onto the table, his head lolling to the side. The girl next to him also closed her eyes, her quill leaving a long trail of ink on the parchment.
Herman forced his eyes open; he couldn't sleep, or he would truly waste time.
He flipped through a few pages of the textbook, his eyes scanning over the dense text, which looked like a swarm of ants crawling on the paper.
He tried to concentrate on reading, but each line could only be barely retained in his mind after about two readings, and by the third reading, it was all gone.
He simply closed the book, shifted his attention away from Professor Binns ' voice, and began looking for something else to perk him up. For example, ghosts.
He stared at Professor Binns' semi-transparent body, which hovered about a hand's width behind the podium, and a completely unrelated thought suddenly popped into his mind.
What exactly is a ghost? Is it a soul? Do all dead people become like that? But he had read in " Hogwarts: A History " that most wizards do not become ghosts after they die; only those who, for some reason, do not wish to leave this world remain.
Why doesn't Professor Binns leave? He doesn't seem to like the job that much.
Once the thought took hold, it was impossible to stop.
Herman stared at Professor Binns's semi-transparent body, his thoughts drifting further and further away.
Professor Binns is already a ghost; he doesn't need to eat, sleep, change clothes, or commute. Does Hogwarts pay him a salary? Even if they did, he wouldn't have anywhere to spend it.
If we don't pay salaries, wouldn't the school save a huge amount of money? It turns out hiring a ghost as a professor is such a good deal.
Herman glanced at Professor Binns, who was still expressionlessly recounting the origins of ancient magic on the podium, then looked around at the students in the classroom who were fast asleep, and silently added to himself:
Since no one listens to what they're teaching anyway, there's not much difference between hiring a living person and hiring a ghost.
Furthermore, with no salaries or social security contributions required, Hogwarts' plan is indeed quite shrewd.
Once my thoughts started to wander, my drowsiness actually subsided quite a bit.
Herman stopped staring at Professor Binns and instead began to look around at his surroundings.
His gaze drifted aimlessly across the Gryffindor area on the left side of the classroom before returning to his own, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of movement diagonally in front of him.
Draco was tilting her head and looking in his direction. Her gaze was fixed on Herman's profile, as if she were looking through him at something, or perhaps she was simply lost in thought.
The moment Herman's gaze turned to her, she quickly turned her head back as if burned, grabbing the open History of Magic textbook in front of her and holding it in front of her face. But the pages trembled, revealing her reddened earlobe.
Herman paused for a moment, not having had time to process what he had just seen, before his gaze unconsciously drifted to the other side.
Harry sat not far away, one hand supporting her chin, her posture relaxed as if she were daydreaming, but her slightly upturned eyes were fixed on him, and the corners of her mouth were curved into a very shallow smile.
That smile lacked warmth; it was more like a hunter seeing his prey step into a marked spot.
Herman felt a sudden tightness in his back. He quickly looked away, pretending to listen attentively, but Professor Binns ' voice continued to buzz on the podium at a constant frequency.
He persisted for about five seconds before deciding to give up on listening to the lecture.
Whether you attend the History of Magic class or not makes little difference, at least for today's lesson.
He opened the Transfiguration he had brought, ignoring Professor Binns's soporific lectures, and began to read on his own.
He read through the basic principles of Transfiguration, the logic of transformation between the essence and form of an object, and the key points Professor McGonagall mentioned in class, word by word, occasionally jotting down annotations in the blank spaces with his quill pen.
As he watched, his thoughts gradually shifted from the details of the Transfiguration to a broader issue.
Is there a clear hierarchy of magical power?
He recalled the online novels and games he had read in his previous life, and found that most of the power systems had clear upgrade paths.
Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, or beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels—at least let people know which stage they are at and where they should go next.
But Hogwarts ' curriculum doesn't include such a thing. Transfiguration is Transfiguration; it becomes more complex and precise as you progress. There's no explicit label stuck on your forehead saying, "You are now a Level 5 Transfiguration Master."
The difference in the strength of magic is real. Dumbledore can fight a whole Werewolf and Vampire with his bare hands, while he has to spend a lot of time adjusting the position of a single silver needle.
The difference between these two cannot be summarized by a vague phrase like "the more you learn, the better you become."
Herman drew a simple staircase diagram in the blank space of his notebook.
He drew a short horizontal line at the bottom and labeled it. "Apprentice. Corresponds to grades one through three."
You must chant incantations and swing the staff. When casting the spell, there is a noticeable magical aura at the tip of the staff. The success rate is unstable and requires repeated attempts.
Most of the lower-year students at Hogwarts are at this level; they can cast spells, but they are not yet stable enough.