Chapter 1245: Spell Discussion

The second day after the official start of school, Vid, just like the “Vid” of last semester, hadn’t set foot in any classroom where classes were being held.

To him now, sitting properly in a classroom felt like a waste of time. It was alright to experience it once or twice occasionally, but doing it every day was just too foolish.

He had all the professors’ class schedules in his hand. Vid spread out the long parchment roll in his dormitory, used a Sticky Spell to attach it to the wall, and scanned the densely packed times with his eyes.

In their enrollment year, the four heads of the houses took on the teaching for the first-year students and hadn’t been replaced for years, the reason for which was self-explanatory.

Vid was very grateful he was a peer of Harry’s because Dumbledore had arranged the best teaching staff at Hogwarts for this class of students, even though most people might not feel it as clearly.

At Hogwarts, some subjects had the same professor teaching all grades, like Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The headmaster exerted all efforts to find a new professor for the school each year, leaving no room for shift replacement.

There were other subjects with two or three professors teaching, such as Herbology or Transfiguration Class.

This was why Professor Sprout could manage several greenhouses while still teaching them three classes of Herbology each week.

But even with other professors or teaching assistants sharing the workload, the workload of these professors wasn’t light. Apart from a few electives, the other professors had no less than twenty classes per week on average.

It didn’t sound like much, but besides teaching, professors at this boarding school also took on night patrols, prepared teaching materials, procured supplies, managed discipline, handled various emergencies, and even provided career guidance to senior students.

Some clever Small Magic existed, like helping professors quickly sort and grade assignments.

But in the end, there was still a lot of work with no shortcuts, requiring hands-on completion.

Vid could only be thankful that Magic School was a relatively independent institution, sparing the professors from dealing with various inspections, morning and evening self-studies, endless forms and meetings, countless training sessions and evaluations, and tasks assigned by various large and small institutions…

Otherwise, he suspected Dumbledore would have to equip each professor with a Time Turner, a crate of Energizing Potions each semester, and worry about the overworked professors dropping dead from exhaustion.

Vid silently marveled, while struggling to extract the free time slots of each professor from the schedule, eventually forming a new “timetable.”

This morning, Professor Flitwick was free from the third class until lunchtime.

Vid saw that the time was about right, so he put away the timetable, took out his broom, and leapt out of the window, arriving on the seventh floor in no time.

The old eagle on the oak door raised its head and spread its wings upon seeing Vid, clapping them as it uttered a melodious sound:

“Vid Gray comes for a visit.”

“Come in!”

Professor Flitwick’s voice came from behind the door. The wooden door slid open, and Vid pushed it gently, immediately seeing Professor Flitwick standing atop a pile of books, surrounded by parchment, almost submerged in paper.

He held his magic wand in his hand, waving it like an orchestra conductor, while a dozen sheets of parchment floated around him.

“Oh, Vid!”

Professor Flitwick raised his head, a cheerful smile on his face:

“You came just in time, I was just looking for a change of pace—what these kids write is even harder to understand than Runic Language, it’s like a Troll stomped on it a few times.”

With a swish of his magic wand, the papers fell to the side, most marked with a kind “A” (Acceptable), very few graded “P” (Poor), and only one received an “E” (Exceeds Expectations).

Vid glanced at it, and saw it was a third-year student’s holiday assignment.

He picked up a sheet casually, the letters sprawling as if planting rows of thorns on the paper, probably even the writer couldn’t recognize what they had written;

Picking up another, the handwriting was barely legible, with three spelling mistakes in just one short line; the content was riddled with gaps.

The one below each letter stood “firm and strong”—that person used less than two hundred words to fill up a foot in length.

—If it were Vid, he could write about six hundred words in a foot.

Hermione was even more extreme, writing so small and dense she could produce one and a half times Vid’s content.

He took a deep breath, reluctantly looking away from the page, saying, “What is all this writing?”

Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, found it amusing.

He chuckled and leapt down from the book pile, walked to the stack of assignments, picked up the very scrawled “thorny text,” and flipped it over several times.

“That’s why…”

Professor Flitwick put the assignment back, lifting his head to look at Vid, his small eyes gleaming with pleasure.

“Your assignments back then were a delight. Every time I marked them, I couldn’t bear to put them down too quickly and wanted to look over them a few more times.”

He turned to the desk, waving his magic wand, letting the parchment fall aside, saying:

“But there’s a unique fun looking at these assignments too—no matter if it’s ten, thirty, or fifty years past, the way these kids handle assignments is basically still those few tricks.”

“Some professor a hundred years from now will probably stand here, sighing over these messy assignments.”

“Thinking that way, it’s actually quite fun.”

“Maybe future professors will mandate,” Vid said, “that any work not neatly written will get a ‘T’ and must be rewritten! If once isn’t enough, then ten times, if ten corrections don’t work, then twenty times, all these bad habits will be fixed!”

Professor Flitwick burst into hearty laughter: “Oh, dear Vid, if you ever become a professor, do let me see that scene… the students would fear you more than Snape!”

“I don’t care if others fear me,” Vid glanced at the assignments, saying, “but I can’t stand this.”

“Hahaha… alright, my ‘Mr. Don’t Care,'” if you really became a professor…”

Professor Flitwick winked, saying, “you’d discover that messy handwriting is just the smallest of students’ problems… don’t just stand, sit… come sit down!”

Professor Flitwick tapped the table with his magic wand, and a pot of fragrant tea appeared on it.

Vid sat down, taking out accumulated questions from this period—all perplexing problems he encountered in practical application, for which textbooks had no answers.

Professor Flitwick took the parchment, his eyes scanning the first line, immediately brimming with excitement.

“Oh, that’s a good question! Combining multiple duplication spells? How did you think of that?”

“During the Alchemy Competition, I encountered a contestant,” Vid explained, “her spell application intrigued me, though the practical effect wasn’t strong.”

“An Alchemy Competition…”

Professor Flitwick smiled, glancing at Vid.

Just with those words, he confirmed his prior speculation—that from then until the end of the last semester, Vid indeed hadn’t been at school all that time.

He must have been very busy during that time… incredibly busy… to the point that he could only jot down fleeting inspirations, without time for thorough contemplation.

Upon returning, he had the time to organize those scattered sparks into concrete ideas.

Thinking this, however, Professor Flitwick said not a word further, only pulling out a heavy ancient text from the bookshelf, flipping to a particular page.

“Look here, there’s a section on speculation and application of duplication spells written three hundred years ago, somewhat similar to your thoughts, for reference…”

They began their discussion, with Professor Flitwick delving into the rationality of reconfiguring and combining the spells, while Vid listened quietly, occasionally posing a question or two, always making Professor Flitwick ever more delighted.

The sunlight outside gradually shifted to a noon position.

From start to finish, they never mentioned Percy again, as if the conversation on the stairs last night had never occurred.

But Vid knew, some words didn’t need to be said a second time.