As usual, the first-year students were being brought by Hagrid via boat over the lake, while the rest of the students took the carriage and travelled along the path to the main entrance of the school.
The school great hall.
“This way, My Lord–” Peeves nodded as he flipped through the air and guided a strange ghost to the great hall. The tall ghost covered himself up so tightly that from under his cloak, only a pair of silver, unfeeling eyes could be seen.
Peeves said with a smile, “Then I’ll leave you alone now, I have some work to do … I need to prepare a lot of water balloons for the new students, don’t you want to see the water balloons explode over the heads of the cute little things?”
The ghost did not say a word, Peeves was just about to leave when a large silver hand poked out from under the cloak and swiftly grabbed the back of Peeves’ neck and shook him hard.
Peeves struggled twice, but could not break free. Instead, he swayed rhythmically as he floated, with a helpless face.
He is a Poltergeist or ghost born in the castle, with greater ability compared to ordinary ghosts. Unlike ordinary ghosts who can only slightly interfere with reality, he can truly engage with reality and can even wrestle with the students to see who has more strength.
The one who could deter him is the professor of the school – as the collective entity of the students’ emotions, Peeves fear of the professor is engraved into his bones, but at the same time, he is the representative of the naughty students, so always be able to talk his way out, and what he truly fears is the professor who is full of authority and uprightness.
The second one is powerful wizards who can affect him, such as Headmaster Dumbledore and Felix Hap.
Third, some special ghosts, such as Bloody Baron, and –
The short Peeves looked at the tall, indifferent ghost in front of him and cursed in a low voice. The silver eyes under the ghost’s cloak suddenly looked at him, to which the Peeves immediately plastered a naive smile and kept rubbing his fingers.
The ghosts in the great hall murmured –
“Another newcomer?” Nearly Headless Nick – the resident ghost of Gryffindor House – said sentimentally.
“Looks like a tough one.” The Fat Friar – the resident ghost of Hufflepuff House – said cheerfully, “How nice, just in time when we need someone to deal with the Peeves.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Nearly Headless Nick said, “Ever since Bloody Baron left …,” as he looked around meaningfully, evoking a chorus of echoes and vocal comments about Peeves’ misdeeds.
“By the way,” one of the ghosts asked, “Which of you still have that picture of Peeves?”
“Oh, That picture when the twins were playing a prank on Peeves by blowing him all over the castle with a fan?” Nearly Headless Nick asked contentedly, with a satisfied smile, “I do, in exchange for five mysteries.”
“How about hosting a photo viewing party?” A ghost suggested.
About a year or so ago, when it was still Felix’s first year on the job, he had cast a Confundus Charm in response to the Peeves’ provocation, making the Peeves muddled with the concept of time, as he mistakenly believed he had just born, unable to handle the students’ various chaotic and mischievous thoughts.
His old rival, the Weasley twins, took the opportunity to conjure up two fans and took turns taking Peeves around to exhibit him, and almost succeeded in throwing a party, but unfortunately, it was stopped midway by Professor McGonagall, and many of the young wizards and all the ghosts voiced out their great regret about it.
Some onlookers at the time took pictures of the spectacle, and later the pictures began to circulate, causing many people to frantically seize them, but when Peeves recovered he got vexed and snatched most of them away.
During that time, the Moaning Myrtle shuttled through the girls’ lavatories on every floor, telling every student about Peeves bullying and his misdeeds.
…
At the faculty table, Felix and Professor McGonagall chatted about the unfinished business from the Headmaster’s office, and Flitwick joined them halfway through their discussion of which spells would be appropriate to put in the “must-master” category.
Professor McGonagall said seriously, “I would prefer that the young wizards have all the knowledge they need if possible, every lesson is important.”
“But Minerva, if we intend to do something, we have to consider how we can get the students to accept it.” Flitwick pointed out.
Professor McGonagall grunted, of course, she knew that, she just expected too much from her students.
Felix nodded gently, “My idea is to break up the spells and divide them into the various grades. For example, the Disarming Charm would be more appropriate to be studied in the third year and assessed in the fourth year, while the Apparition will probably need to be studied in the sixth year and assessed in the seventh year.”
He added: “The purpose of the test is not for credit, rather to make them master those spells truly, so I think the assessment time should be as flexible as possible, and there should not be any limitation on the number of attempts.”
Flitwick thought for a while and said, “That’s a good idea, if we centralize the exam to the last year, probably most students will keep dragging their feet. Severus, what do you think?”
“I have no opinion, you did not include the potions.” Snape said coldly.
“This …” Flitwick stammered, “You’re also one of the regular professors in the Dueling Club, aren’t you? You should know that Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been a shortcoming of our students, and thankfully the Dueling Club can fill in some gaps.”
“Lupin taught it well last year.” Professor McGonagall interjected.
“I understand,” Flitwick said, “and Belby too, they’re both did it pretty well, but …”
He hesitated for a moment, trying to organize his words, “But we all know what that class is like – each professor only has one year to teach, and I won’t deny that Dumbledore has gone out of his way to get as many good wizards as possible to teach the class, but a good wizard and a good professor are two different things. ”
“Just because you learn it well doesn’t mean you can teach it well as well.” Felix concluded.
“That’s right!” Flitwick’s eyes lit up, “That’s right! A good professor needs a lot of experience and the ability to understand the various difficulties that students may encounter … This process may last for years, but for a professor taking this class, it’s simply not possible.”
“The Charms class and Defense Against the Dark Arts, although both teach spells, they focus on completely different aspects. I teach general practical magic and of course, various basic skills, while those offensive spells and defensive spells that can be used in duels are basically classified under the category of Defense Against the Dark Arts …”
“It happens that the professors of this class are the most unstable, if you meet a good teacher, you can learn more, if you meet an unfit one or one who is not good at teaching, you will screw up.”
The professors went silent, a long list of names of professors who had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts classes over the years popped up in their minds, one right after another.
Felix also pondered the professors he had come into contact with-both those he had met in school and those he had met on in his work-and frankly, the ones like Lockhart had been the bottom line in every sense of the word. Most of professors are just mediocre, or not very good at teaching students, often describing a simple problem in a way that would cloud the minds of young wizards; or talking entirely from their own experience, unable to effectively address the troubles their students would experience.
There is also a hidden difficulty behind this, which is that the class has not been reasonably planned. Experienced professors like Flitwick and McGonagall, who teach from the first year until graduation, know the characteristics of each student well and will provide targeted guidance.
And what should be taught at each grade level, how much to teach, and what are the general issues students might encounter, they’re very clear about it.
And when it comes to the Defense Against the Dark Arts … it is already good to be able to learn from the book. Professors like Lupin who think about their students and try to make up for their lack of practical lessons can be few and far between.
Most Professors will follow their own habits and will talk about something here and there. As one Professor will go East, and the other will go West.
So some students will be surprised to find, after seven years, that they have heard seven classes about the same content – from seven different Professors.
…
Snape grunted disdainfully beside him, isn’t that the fact, what’s there to discuss, he glanced several times at the new ghost in the corner lightly, feeling it should be related to Felix, the shiny cloak looked really familiar.
And this ghost has never spoken since the beginning, putting a high posture, so that the Nearly Headless Nick who went over to talk snapped and returned.
A clamour is heard from the main door, the students’ carriage parked at the door, they ran through the heavy rain into the castle, chattering and making a lot of noise, the school instantly filled with a lively atmosphere.
Felix also stopped talking, his eyes glowed slightly, and the ghost standing quietly in the corner of the great hall suddenly moved and grabbed the Peeves and flew towards the entrance hall.
The students stepped into the entrance hall, shaking the rainwater as they warmed their bodies with the help of torches hanging high on the walls.
“Gosh,” Ron said, shaking his head hard and spilling droplets everywhere, “It’s simply dripping.”
Harry silently wrung his own sleeve, squeezing out a large puddle of stagnant water. His shoes and pants were also soaked with water, heavily weighed and dragging downward, his hair clinging wetly to his head.
“What is that?! What is that–” cried Neville, who had been riding in the same carriage with them, with a shocked look on his face.
The few people around them looked up at the marble steps leading to the great hall, near the entrance, a tall figure hovered in midair amidst the wavering torchlight, draped in a long cloak, his sleeves fluttering, his silver eyes completely apathetic.
“What’s that he’s carrying in his hand?” Someone noticed the commotion from further away.
“A freshman?” Someone guessed as that person looked short, like a baby carrot.
“How is that possible?! They are currently sailing on the lake, wait-” a senior’s eyes widened, “That’s Peeves!”
“Peeves being carried in his hand? Oh my God!”
“No, that’s, that’s a dementor, a Dementor!” A student with particularly bad eyes screamed.
The air instantly froze as the students drew in a cold breath, with their bodies shuddered, and they went into disarray.
“Ex-pec-to-Patr-onum!” Harry drew his wand and shouted.
Silver light poured out of his wand and spread on the ground. A silver shadow then leaped out of his wand, and it looked like a stag, leaping towards the dementor.
Harry did not have time to think about why the Dementor suddenly appeared in the castle, he looked at his Patronus with great anticipation, incredibly sure that it will be like the past, once again will help him.
“Zizi~”
Harry wondered if he was seeing things wrong, as the tall ‘dementor’ stretched out it’s free hand and propped up the stag’s antlers in one fell swoop, forcing his Patronus to halt.
He blinked incredulously, his lenses did blur a bit, but he could never mistake a Patronus that big.
Ron stammered, “Th-is, this should be the leader of the Dementors, right? Look at the size of it, it’s not impossible …”
Hermione shuddered and pulled out her wand to try to protect herself, “ex-PEK-toh pa-TRO-num–”
A seventh-year student also called out, as a silver panther rushed up and got slapped away by the ‘Dementor’, and the free Peeves immediately plunged into the wall and disappeared.
Before he left, he shouted exaggeratedly: “The New Ghost and the Students are Fighting! The New Ghost and the Students are Fighting!”
Professor McGonagall hurried over, her peaked cap tilted on her head, and she shouted angrily, “Peeves, what are you up to now?!” But the scene before her was not exactly what she had imagined, and she blinked at the scene.
“Minerva, it’s me.” A gentle voice said as the ghost was forced to speak. The sight of the dementor actually speaking scared several students nearby into a group hug.
Professor McGonagall recognized his voice, so she held her breath and yelled at the ghost in a small voice: “FELIX HAP, impersonating as a Dementor to scare the students is not a decent thing to do, I tell you-”
“Uh it was an accident, Sorry Minerva, they mistook me as a Dementor …”
Ghost Felix said awkwardly, he never thought that someone would identify the ghost as a Dementor, and what was even more outrageous was that Harry immediately cast the Patronus spell to attack him.
How’s their brain even work?
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, her nostrils opening and closing with a heavy breathing sound, a prelude to her outburst, usually, it will be accompanied by a scolding and a deduction of twenty points, plus a different type of detention, except given that Felix himself is a professor, she can’t use any of those latter.
“I’ll leave now.” The ghost hurriedly said, he did not want to provoke the raging lion, even Dumbledore won’t provoke McGonagall when she is in this state, so he disappeared with a “whoosh”.
Professor McGonagall’s chest was heaving, as she glanced at the House point hourglasses that used to record the house points in the entrance hall for a while, before she said sternly to the drenched crowd, “What are you waiting for, into the great hall, quickly!”
She led the way into the great hall, followed by the sagging students, who walked with a splashing sound, leaving a wet footprint.
“If I were you guys, I’d use a spell to dry the moisture out of my body.”
Professor McGonagall paused and said with a headache, it is difficult to imagine that among these students, there will be champions who represent Hogwarts and compete for the school’s glory in the Tournament of Champions in a month or so.
———-
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