Chapter 131: Cassandra’s Pride {1}

The History of Magic class remained as simple and dull as ever, with Professor Binns’ droning, sleep-inducing tone making it the perfect lullaby. Even Hermione, usually the epitome of a diligent student, found herself resting her chin in her hand, struggling to keep her eyes open. There was no helping it—Professor Binns was just…  soporific. Perhaps the person who designed the schedule did so deliberately, considering that on Tuesday nights at around eleven, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students still had Astronomy class together. Astronomy classes generally took place between eleven at night and midnight—after all, there was no point in holding a star-gazing class in the daytime and having students stare at the sun, right? Looking at it this way, the schedule was actually quite considerate, at least allowing for some reasonable nap time in the afternoon. Professor Binns never cared whether students dozed off or slacked during class—his only concern was whether he could read through his lecture material without interruption. “I think we should invent a spell,” Ron muttered as they left class. “A spell that guarantees we fall asleep successfully in class.” “Professor Binns’ voice isn’t enough for you, Ron?” Seamus asked in disbelief. “Honestly, I just had one of the best naps ever in that class.” “I  to sleep, but ask Hermione!” Ron complained, looking utterly aggrieved. “Every time she starts nodding off, she pinches me so hard—Merlin, why doesn’t she just pinch herself?” “Because pinching you doesn’t hurt, Ron,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Ron puffed up his cheeks, making a silent vow that one day—when the opportunity presented itself—he would return the favor a hundredfold! Merlin’s beard, being bullied by Hermione  wasn’t a great feeling! -- The next morning—Wednesday—only had a single class scheduled, Charms, which was set for eleven o’clock before lunch. After yesterday’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, the students had gained a preliminary understanding of , those dreadful dark magic constructs. To deal with Inferi, fire-based spells were the most effective weapon. Originally, Professor Flitwick had planned to continue teaching them Marking Charms in this lesson, but Hermione had eagerly raised her hand. “Miss Granger,” Professor Flitwick said, clearly delighted to see an engaged student. “What’s your question?” “Well, Professor,” Hermione began, “in Defense Against the Dark Arts, we learned about Inferi, and Professor Lockhart demonstrated their weaknesses to us. He explained that fire-based spells are particularly effective against them, so I wanted to ask—could you teach us some fire spells?” Of course, Hermione already knew a few fire-related spells—after all, she had  set Professor Snape’s robes on fire during their first-year Quidditch match. That incident had truly upset Snape—those robes had been a gift from Lily, and even after all these years, he had never been willing to replace them. Professor Flitwick’s mouth hung open, as if he hadn’t quite processed what Hermione had just said, or perhaps he simply couldn’t believe that  had actually brought an  into a classroom of second-years. It took him a long moment before he finally managed to ask, “What?” Hermione patiently repeated herself. “Merlin’s beard! I  I should have spoken to Albus about this—Lockhart as a professor? What does he think Defense Against the Dark Arts is? His own personal adventure series?!” Professor Flitwick fumed. “Bringing an Inferius into the classroom for a demonstration? Does he  expect second-year students to be capable of handling such creatures?” “Uh, Professor?” Padma Patil of Ravenclaw raised her hand hesitantly. “Actually, Seamus Finnigan from Gryffindor has already proven that he’s quite capable of dealing with an Inferius.” Padma was the twin sister of Parvati Patil, though it was quite rare for twins to end up in different Houses. The Weasley twins had always been curious about how that had happened. “Yes, Professor,” added Anthony Goldstein, another Ravenclaw. “Even though his spell wasn’t  effective, it still blew the Inferius’ face apart—one of its eyeballs even rolled onto a Slytherin’s desk.” This comment sparked a wave of laughter across the classroom. Nobody in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw was particularly fond of Slytherins, and hearing about them being disgusted by an Inferius’ eyeball had everyone gloating with amusement. The Ravenclaws went on to explain that Lockhart had clarified that while he would teach them  to defend against dark creatures, he expected  to actually teach them the necessary spells. “Oh, I see,” Professor Flitwick nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. I’ll need to coordinate with Professor Lockhart to align our lesson plans and ensure that I’m teaching you the appropriate spells.” He didn’t seem upset about it at all—on the contrary, he looked quite pleased. For a moment, Professor Flitwick’s eyes grew misty. “Well then,” he said, regaining his composure, “today, we’ll be learning a new spell—the .” He gave a little hop, surveying the class with bright eyes before asking, “Now, who can tell me about the Fire-Making Charm?” Several hands shot up at once. “It seems everyone has done their reading… Alright, Miss Patil—” But before Flitwick could finish his sentence, two identical students stood up at the same time. One was from Gryffindor, the other from Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick chuckled lightly before correcting himself, “Ah,  Miss Patil.” Parvati sat back down, leaving the chance to her twin sister. “The Fire-Making Charm, also known as the  spell, is a charm that produces a jet of flames. It can be used to ignite objects,” Padma recited. “Miranda Goshawk describes in  that, ‘From lighting a warm hearth to setting aflame a Christmas pudding, the Fire-Making Charm has long been a useful spell in wizarding households. However, this ability to conjure fire at the flick of a wand can pose a danger to one’s classmates—or worse, to one’s books.’” “Excellent! Five points to Ravenclaw,” Professor Flitwick said cheerfully. “Does anyone have anything to add about the Fire-Making Charm?” Neville raised his hand. Professor Flitwick gestured for him to speak. “Also, the Fire-Making Charm is a known weakness of Devil’s Snare,” Neville said as he stood up. “Professor Sprout mentioned this during our first-year Herbology class.” “Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!” Professor Flitwick announced proudly. Fair and just—that was the mark of every House Head  Snape. Sometimes, having too much integrity wasn’t necessarily a good thing when it came to House points… But as Snape himself would say— “I must warn you,” Professor Flitwick continued, “that the Fire-Making Charm is an advanced spell. Once cast, the flames are difficult to control. The incantation will create an explosive burst, launching a swirling orange fireball outward.” His voice grew sharp as he added, “Furthermore, this spell is ineffective against the darkness produced by Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.” "Alright, now we’ll begin learning how to cast the Fire-Making Charm. Pay close attention to my hand movements and the trajectory of my wand—" Professor Flitwick instructed as he demonstrated, marking the air with his wand. He slashed upward at an angle like writing the letter ‘A,’ then pulled downward, finishing with a sweeping arc toward the top. "This is the precise movement required," he said again, adding directional arrows to illustrate the motion. "Watch closely... The incantation is  (Blazing Flames)." "Now, follow my cue," Professor Flitwick continued. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a protective barrier in front of the students. "Follow my movements, trace the pattern as I showed you, and then recite the incantation…" "" On their first attempt, a few students managed to produce tiny sparks. "Splendid! That’s a great start, a great start!" Professor Flitwick cheered, gesturing animatedly. But before he could finish his sentence, a loud  erupted in the classroom. Startled, Professor Flitwick nearly tumbled off his desk but managed to steady himself just in time. He turned toward the source of the explosion and saw that the protective barrier between Seamus and Neville had shattered completely. Both boys were left with sooty faces and wild, frizzled hair, staring blankly ahead in shock. Neville lifted his head and exhaled a small black smoke ring. "I think we need a new protective shield, Professor," he said pitifully. Professor Flitwick, unfazed by the mishap, sighed. It was hardly surprising—every time he taught a new spell, Seamus always managed to incorporate an unintended explosive element. Flitwick was well aware of Seamus’s aptitude for explosive charms, but given his age, teaching him an actual explosion spell wasn’t exactly a wise decision. Blowing up part of the school would be a minor issue—blowing up fellow students, however, was another matter entirely. "Watch this!" Ron flicked his wand. "" His wand emitted a feeble shower of sparks, crackling slightly, but no flames emerged. Unwilling to give up, Ron kept waving his wand, determined to produce some fire. However, as it turned out, effort alone wasn’t enough to successfully cast a spell. "Stop, stop right now!" Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm. "You’re going to poke someone’s eye out!—Also, I need to correct you: your pronunciation is wrong. It’s , not . You missed a syllable!" Ron pouted but ultimately accepted Hermione’s correction without argument. After all, it wasn’t like he could start a fight with her over it. Sёarᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Standing beside Ron, Harry listened to their exchange and suddenly found his mind drifting to a rather ridiculous scenario… For instance… Voldemort casting . And then, out of nowhere, Hermione appearing to correct him: "Stop, stop right now! You’re going to poke someone’s eye out!—Also, I need to correct you: it’s , not @#! ¥%..." Imagining the scene, Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing. By the time class ended, the thought had only grown funnier in his mind. Sitting in the Great Hall, he lay on the table, shoulders shaking as he laughed uncontrollably. "Harry, what’s wrong?" Ron asked in confusion, unable to understand why his friend was so amused. Harry recounted the scene he had imagined, sharing it with Ron, Seamus, and Neville. The moment he finished, the group erupted into thunderous laughter. "Merlin, Harry," Neville wiped away tears from laughing too hard. "I never knew—you were actually this funny…" "What do you mean? Are you saying I’m usually serious?" Harry asked indignantly. "Oh, not really," Ron said, clutching his stomach. "It’s just… that was hilarious." At that moment, the Weasley twins walked over, looking particularly excited. They flanked Ron on either side, leaning in conspiratorially. "Blimey, I think I owe Mum an apology." "What?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Why would you suddenly want to be a good son?" "You’re the good son, Ronniekins," the twins said in unison. Then Fred added, "You know, we never truly appreciated Mum’s wisdom until we took Professor Lockhart’s class." "Merlin’s beard, Lockhart is ! Do you know what he brought to class today?" George asked, eyes gleaming. "What was it?" Ron bit into a drumstick. "Not Inferi, surely? Like the ones we got—" "No, it was an Acromantula," Fred said. George quickly chimed in, "Yep, a Ministry-classified XXXXX creature. It was —bigger than Dad’s car, maybe even larger!" Ron froze mid-bite, his expression turning blank. He  spiders. Worse still, he had an overactive imagination, and thanks to the twins’ vivid description, he could already picture the terrifying creature in his mind. "An Acromantula," Fred whispered into Ron’s ear, mimicking a furry sensation. "Ronniekins, just picture it… eight gleaming eyes… hairy legs… clicking pincers…" "Ugh…!" Ron dropped his drumstick with a small, strangled squeak and recoiled, trying to escape his brothers. But it was no use. The twins grabbed him, one on each side. "Where do you think you’re going, Ronniekins?" George grinned mischievously. "Want us to take you to see one? I hear there are some in the Forbidden Forest…" Ron shook his head vigorously. He  wanted to see a spider, ever. Harry, on the other hand, had never quite understood Ron’s fear of spiders. After all, he had grown up under the stairs in the Dursleys’ house, where he had encountered plenty of them. It just went to show—people really did experience fear in different ways. "An Acromantula?" Hermione suddenly asked. "So Lockhart actually changes the teaching creatures every year? I thought he’d be using Inferi for your class too." "He was going to," George shrugged. "But apparently, Seamus blew it up." "Yeah, its eyeballs flew everywhere—really unsightly. They were worried it might be too disturbing, so they switched to an Acromantula instead." "That makes sense," Hermione nodded. "I suppose a bloodied Inferius really  the best teaching aid." "Which is why, as I said earlier, I really should apologize—to both Mum and Professor Lockhart," the twins joked. "We have to admit, he actually  our expectations for a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. If only he’d stop boasting about his adventures, he’d be ." "But hey, we can’t have everything," they added in unison. "He  quite dedicated," Harry admitted, agreeing with the twins. Later that afternoon, in Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall introduced the new semester’s curriculum. She stood tall at the podium, clad in her usual immaculate emerald-green robes—precisely as meticulous as her personality. "Today, we begin the new term’s lessons," she announced. "However, I must inform you that we  be covering advanced Transfiguration techniques just yet. You must understand that Transfiguration is a structured discipline—progressing step by step. Skipping ahead to magic beyond your level is neither wise nor beneficial." Harry could tell she was subtly expressing her disapproval of Lockhart’s habit of exposing students to XXXXX-level magical creatures and Dark artifacts. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. Every creature Lockhart had introduced so far had been nothing short of terrifying. Transfiguration required precision. Unlike Defense Against the Dark Arts, where some improvisation could be useful, there were no shortcuts in Transfiguration—unless, of course, one was a natural-born genius. But such talents were  rare. Professor McGonagall had already voiced her concerns to Dumbledore. But the Headmaster’s stance remained ambiguous—not exactly supportive of Lockhart, but not entirely opposed to him either. --- Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon .com/windkaze