Although dinner was already being served in the dining hall, the sudden inspiration made William temporarily put aside the thought of eating.
Ten minutes later, he raised his head in disappointment—'There's still too little to compare, and I can't just physically punish students based on my own guesses, can I?'
William believed that if he argued with Professor McGonagall a few times and then slacked off at work, he would definitely get a negative box—but what was the use of that? Even a fool would choose a stable professorship over a one-time card.
'The so-called system, let's just consider it a surprise,' he smiled, disposing of the parchment with his guesses and the few marked papers below it, 'Even if I draw a hundred more cards, I still have to write the lesson plans myself, don't I?'
'Time to eat!' William cheered up and happily walked towards the dining hall.
—
The dining table was quite lively today, with several unfamiliar faces that William hadn't seen before.
Fortunately, Hogwarts spared no expense on meals, and after searching for a long time, William finally found a seat—Adams had saved it for him.
"William, over here!"
Adams lowered his voice and called William over, and before he could even sit down, he whispered, "My goodness, Professor Flitwick didn't challenge you to a duel. How did you do it?"
Undoubtedly, his friend already knew about the diadem.
"Shh, lower your voice," William whispered, formulating his words carefully to avoid mentioning the parts he couldn't—like Dumbledore trying to destroy the diadem.
"Ravenclaw's ghost, that is, the Grey Lady, whose true identity is Helena Ravenclaw, gave me the diadem."
This was the agreed-upon public explanation, and Professor Flitwick had no objections.
"Heavens! I used to ask her about the diadem. Why wasn't I given it?"
Adams's quiet complaint made William recall what the lady had said earlier—Adams, I'm sorry, but I regret to inform you that you and the other students were despised...
—
William had a rather unpleasant lunch—the professors who rarely appeared at the dining table were all senior professors of the school, and their purpose for being there was obvious.
Although none of the professors tried to say anything during the entire lunch, no one could enjoy their meal while being stared at by so many people.
Barely half-full, William didn't even dare to speak much. He gave Adams a meaningful look and walked out of the dining hall.
"Phew, oh my god," William exclaimed, "Those professors are a bit too scary, Adams. You just said they were senior professors, what do they teach?"
"All sorts of miscellaneous subjects, I guess. To be precise, most of them no longer teach classes. They spend almost all day doing research at school, and their meals are usually delivered by house-elves."
Adams spread his hands, indicating that he wasn't entirely sure either.
"There's such a thing?"
"Of course there is. Not all professors choose to retire. For example, Professor Binns, he loves teaching, and some professors like research, so they just stay at school," Adams said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Magic must progress, William." Adams pointed towards the library, "It's impossible for all those books in the Hogwarts Restricted Section to be donations. There's only one Hogwarts in all of Britain. If we don't do research, are we going to rely on the Ministry of Magic?"
William felt a bit ashamed hearing this—after researching some information about Hogwarts, he had always treated it like a vocational school and hadn't considered that it was also the only institution of higher learning in the British magical world, naturally undertaking research work.
'You're slacking off, William!'
He warned himself again internally—'Only thinking about learning and excavating ancient magic, completely forgetting that magic also progresses. Didn't Dumbledore's card tell you? Even someone like Dumbledore is researching new uses for dragon's blood!'
'The seventh-year curriculum can be slightly adjusted, and I can also inquire about what new theories those research-oriented professors have come up with.'
"You get it now, right?" Adams patted William's shoulder, "Actually, that unlucky fellow Sinister was forced to teach classes. Who told him he was the youngest?"
It's a bit too realistic to have seniority here...
"Oh, right, I also saw um—" William tried to recall the name, realizing he hadn't remembered it at all, "—that witch who looks like, um, a Diviner—"
William carefully chose his words, forcing himself to swallow the word 'charlatan'.
"That's the Divination professor. I bet Professor Trelawney would really like your guess," Adams understood the question without any difficulty, "But I doubt you'd like Professor Sybill… She predicts a student's death every year."
"A student dies every year?" William was startled by this statement—although when he was in college, occasionally there would be cases of students being guaranteed admission to graduate school, it was completely different here with a curse on him.
"What a joke. Expulsions, yes, but many of these children are pure-bloods. If it were that serious, the school wouldn't be able to operate. Professor Sybill just relies on that act to scare students." Adams shrugged, expressing his lack of support for this ridiculous claim.
"Then?" William was still a bit curious—after all, this professor had led his first selection after leaving Azkaban, and he hadn't seen her before. Since he caught her today, he wanted to get a clear answer.
"I probably understand what you mean, William. You're asking if Professor Trelawney is also a research-oriented professor?"
Adams waved his hand, looked around, and then whispered, "Don't spread rumors, but we all agree that Professor Trelawney is just here for the paycheck. She acts all mystical all day just to maintain her image as a Diviner. She has no prophetic abilities whatsoever!"
So I'm not the only slacker in this school?
William's first reaction was pure joy, but he quickly realized something was off—he was slacking off because the school couldn't find professors, but what about her?
"That shouldn't be right, should it? Doesn't Professor McGonagall know?"
As a professor who knew a little about the school's situation, William ignored the hands-off headmaster.
"Hard to say, but Professor McGonagall has always disliked her." Adams looked around again before replying, "I remember Professor McGonagall expressing her dissatisfaction with her in her classes more than once. You know how much Professor McGonagall values her lessons with her personality."
That's true. With Professor McGonagall's personality, she would never waste her precious class time complaining.
"Right? But we suspect that Professor McGonagall keeps Professor Trelawney around just to ask the Ministry of Magic for funding. You should know Cassandra Trelawney, the great Seer. Professor Trelawney is her descendant, pure-blood certified. With that identity, how much funding do you think they can get for the Divination program each year?"
Pure-blood certified, a mystical Divination class—even before he came to Hogwarts, William knew how profitable this stuff was. It wasn't a small number of people who pretended to be Diviners and ended up in Azkaban...
'Could it be that a slacker found a slacker?'
If Adams weren't still there, William would have covered his face. This was a bit too magical...
"I'll go to the staff room alone, William. I advise you not to go. Just stay in your office all day. Those research professors don't really like socializing. At most, they'll pretend to run into you once in the staff room. They definitely won't think of cornering you in your office. Once the news that the diadem is actually with Dumbledore spreads, you'll be fine. Don't worry, leave it to me. If you're not there, it's much easier for me to explain."
Adams offered a friendly suggestion—William decided to follow his advice.
He couldn't possibly hang a sign on his chest saying 'The diadem is with Dumbledore, don't come looking for me,' that would be a direct slap in the face.
According to Adams, those professors would probably try their best to find opportunities to come over alone, create accidental encounters, and then subtly probe, or just directly ask—William hadn't had much interaction with these castle professors, but just hearing Adams's description made his head ache.
Explaining to each one would take forever—and he'd have to be careful not to speak too hastily, so as not to affect their relationship.
'It's all up to Adams. My diadem didn't get used, but I got covered in dust…'
William smiled and shook his head, walking towards his office—he'd research Transfiguration in the office this afternoon.
—
'Transfiguration can even briefly create life, but that's just the influence of magic…'
William read the material, looking bewildered…
The concept of creating life was a bit too grand. Whether it was due to talent or some other reason, his research in Transfiguration was nowhere near as smooth as his studies in the now-renamed Self-Defense Magic. Just understanding the textbook was a bit difficult.
'This is only a fourth-year textbook!'
William couldn't help but scratch his head. The two strongest cards he drew, one from Dumbledore and one from Professor McGonagall, both clearly showed that both had powerful Transfiguration skills—just by looking at Dumbledore's ability to animate any object to block spells, which he never displayed in front of students or teachers, one could see how much Transfiguration helped in combat.
'Many dark spells are greatly weakened when they penetrate living creatures, instead of exploding violently like when hitting a solid. So, is briefly creating life the correct approach?'
'Then, if I wear an insect armor, can it block most dark magic spells?'
'Transforming insects into part of the clothing, and then making clothes like that, and quickly transfiguring them when cursed?'
'Or, wearing a dress with those occasional shiny sequins—what were they called? Never mind, just that kind of dress, and then temporarily turning those shiny decorations into insects or something to block magic, is that feasible?'
…
'What nonsense are you thinking about!' William shook his head, shaking off the thoughts that appeared in his mind, briefly jotting down the idea in his notebook and then dismissing it—he hadn't even learned to walk, and he was already thinking about running…
'If I really had that kind of strength, I'd just block magic with a wave of my hand, like Dumbledore hid. Animated objects are always more reliable than turning into a pile of creatures.
'Hey, so, if I carried a few white mice or beetles with me, would it—'
'Stop, William! You're researching Transfiguration, and if raising white mice or anything like that was really reliable, it would be better not to bathe and raise fleas instead, at least there are more of them and they take up less space…'
The Transfiguration research wasn't going smoothly, and a slightly annoyed William finally suppressed his chaotic thoughts with a peppermint candy.
He casually jotted down his recent association again and began to delve deeper into the textbook.
—
"Knock, knock, knock!"
The knock on his office door tightened William's already furrowed brows.
'It's not the diadem again, is it? Why don't you go find Dumbledore!'
"Come in."
Venturing his frustration through grumbling, William politely called out to the door.
The door opened in response, and the person who entered was someone he hadn't expected at all—Hermione Granger, who had given William a good lesson at the start of the school year.
'This is my office, right?'
William looked around uncertainly, and finally came to the conclusion, yes, this was his office.
"Uh, I apologize, if I'm not mistaken, you're Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor…"
The little girl who dared to jump off the train at the start of the school year was surprisingly ladylike today.
"Second-year courses are not under my purview. That's Professor Lockhart's business. His office is on another floor, you've come to the wrong place, young lady."
William spoke quickly. He was already annoyed enough. If the person was his student, it would be fine, but in this situation, it was best to pass the buck.
"Um, I'm sorry, Professor, Professor McGonagall recommended me. My Transfiguration class performance today was so poor, Professor McGonagall suggested I come talk to you…"
The little girl's voice became lower and lower, but William knew very well that this was an illusion.
'Poor performance in Transfiguration class? I think you're implying something!'
"I remember them saying you were generally recognized as the top student in your year?" William retorted, then casually rummaged through his pocket—was she here to ask about second-year exam questions?
Speaking of which, he had set the first-year Self-Defense Against the Dark Arts exam questions, and Professor McGonagall had even asked him for a copy afterwards, saying she wanted to refer to it, but there had been no follow-up since.
'Could it be that this child was too arrogant in class, and Professor McGonagall felt she needed a bit of a setback?'
Otherwise, why would she come to him if her Transfiguration performance was bad? He didn't teach that…
"Have a seat, young lady. Have you finished previewing your second-year courses?"
To make sure he hadn't misunderstood the question, William asked.
"Of course, Professor, I had pretty much previewed them over the summer."
Hermione nodded repeatedly—after talking with Professor McGonagall, she had developed a resistance to the much-talked-about diadem, but Professor McGonagall still recommended her to come here.
'Is this the test to get access to the diadem?'
'Come on, Hermione, let those gossips know that your efforts cannot be negated by a diadem!'
Before even looking at what was written on the parchment, Hermione began to cheer herself up—it was already embarrassing enough to be talked to for poor performance because of the diadem. Now that her strong suit, the exam, was here, she couldn't relax.
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