Hogwarts: The Witch Education Handbook

Chapter 67 Harry, the Learner

Harry, ten years from now, will probably never remember how he went through his final exams in his first year at Hogwarts.

Because during those days he was constantly on edge, always on guard against Voldemort breaking down the door, but as time went by, it seemed that Fulwei was still alive and well behind that locked door.

The weather after the rain was unusually hot and humid, with a heavy heat wave permeating the air, making even breathing difficult.

The large classroom where Harry was answering questions was more like a giant steamer, unbearably hot.

Sweat dripped down their foreheads. Everyone longed for a bit of coolness, but unfortunately, it was an exam, and they could only grit their teeth and persevere.

In addition to the written test, they will also have a practical skills test to take.

Professor Flitwick stood at the classroom door and called them in one by one. Each person faced a peculiar challenge: to make a pineapple tap dance across the desk.

This seemingly "simple" task actually tests the students' precise control over magic.

During the practical exam of the Transfiguration course, Professor McGonagall quietly observed them as they transformed a mouse into a snuffbox.

The scoring criteria for this exam are quite peculiar.

The more exquisite the appearance of the snuffbox, the higher the score.

However, if traces such as a rat's whiskers are left during the transformation process, points will be deducted.

Of course, these exams are nothing compared to the Potions exam.

During the Potions exam, Harry was desperately trying to recall the steps to prepare the potion of forgetfulness, while Snape stood right behind him, watching closely, his breath audible on the back of his neck.

Fortunately, Professor Sean did the same.

Having learned from Professor Sean's experience, he did not panic as expected when faced with Snape's similar actions, and instead successfully completed the production of the forgetfulness potion.

The final exam is the dreaded yet extremely challenging history of magic.

A tense yet expectant atmosphere filled the classroom, because the students knew that if they could persevere for just one more hour and successfully answer the historical question of which strange old wizards invented the automatic stirring crucible, they would finally gain the freedom they had longed for.

At that time, they could let loose and play carefree for a whole week until the day the exam results were announced.

Time ticked by, and the only sounds in the classroom were the scratching of a quill pen on paper and the occasional turning of a page.

Each student was completely absorbed in writing their answers, hoping to seize this last chance to take the exam.

Finally, when Professor Binns' ghost, in that ethereal and ancient voice, told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment answers, the entire classroom seemed to boil over in an instant.

Harry couldn't contain his joy and cheered loudly with his classmates. They knew that this cheer not only represented the end of the exams but also symbolized the freedom and relaxation that was about to come. Everyone's face was beaming with smiles, anticipating the wonderful time to come.

"This is much simpler than I originally thought," Hermione said casually as they followed the crowd into the sunny open space. "I don't actually need to memorize the 'Wolverine Code of Conduct of 1637,' nor do I need to delve into the details of the elf rebellion."

After the exams, Hermione always liked to review the material again, but Ron said it was torture for him.

So they strolled leisurely down the slope to the lakeside and then casually sat down under a large tree.

Not far away, a huge squid was sunbathing in the warm, shallow water, while the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were gently teasing its tentacles.

"That's great, no more burying my head in books." Ron let out a happy sigh and stretched out on the grass. "Harry, don't be too upset. We won't know how we did in a week, so there's no need to worry about it now."

Harry rubbed his forehead, looking somewhat irritated.

"I just don't understand what's going on!" he suddenly exclaimed angrily. "My scar has been throbbing—it's hurt before, but it's never been flaring up this frequently."

"Let's go see Ms. Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

“I’m not sick,” Harry said. “I think this is a warning…meaning danger is coming…”

Under the blazing sun, Ron looked rather listless.

"Harry, relax. Hermione's right. As long as Dumbledore is around, the Philosopher's Stone won't be in danger. Anyway, we haven't found any evidence to confirm that Snape found out how to get through to Fluffy."

"He almost had his leg bitten off last time, so he won't rush into another risky attempt. If even Hagrid betrayed Dumbledore, then Neville could be selected for the English Quidditch team."

Although Harry nodded in agreement, an indescribable sense of unease lingered in his mind and wouldn't go away.

"No, I need to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry suddenly said, standing up. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, both seeing the worry in each other's eyes. They knew Harry's personality; once he made up his mind, it was difficult to change it.

"Harry, are you sure you want to do this?" Hermione asked. "Professor Dumbledore is probably busy, and it wouldn't be good for you to bother him now."

"I know, but I have to go," Harry said firmly. "My scar keeps aching, and that's not a good sign. If something's brewing, I need to know in advance."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, if you really feel it's necessary, then we'll go with you."

Harry looked at them gratefully. "Thank you, but this is my own business. I'll go by myself. You guys enjoy your holiday."

Once back at the castle, Harry looked around, seemingly hoping to find a signpost to guide him.

No one had ever told him where Dumbledore lived, nor did he know who had ever been taken to see the headmaster.

"Mr. Potter, the exam is over. What are you doing standing here?"

It was Sean; he had just come out of Professor McGonagall's office.

"I want to see Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Sean thought for a moment and replied, "I guess you won't be seeing him."

Why?

"I'm also looking for Professor Dumbledore. I just learned from Professor McGonagall that he received an urgent letter from the Ministry of Magic and left half an hour ago. He'll probably be back tomorrow."

"He's gone?" Harry asked anxiously. "At this time?"

The throbbing scar on Harry's head seemed to be telling him that this was not good news.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very important wizard, very busy and his time is very precious—" Sean said, shaking his head.

He believed that praising Dumbledore in front of the "Dumbledore's successor" seemed to be a good way to win Dumbledore's favor.

"But this matter is very important."

"How important is it?"

"That's how it is," Harry was about to tell the whole story, but then he suddenly remembered the Quidditch match, and swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

He may be reckless, but he's not stupid.

In a moment of desperation, Harry changed his mind and said, "I wanted to ask Professor Dumbledore if I could stay at Hogwarts during the summer to continue my studies. I really want to study."

Sean looked at Harry with a strange expression.

He didn't expect...