From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

'It's about the same now...' Harry turned around and glanced at the office door that had just been closed—Moody was much more lively and terrifying when he was lecturing.

Compared to Professor William's assumptions and predictions, Professor Moody always preferred to use the scars on his own body as teaching materials. He could even recount the experiences of a dark wizard in Azkaban or who had long since fallen asleep, finding things in roughly the same places.

'He's more of a pragmatist than Professor William... but his methods are somewhat inferior to the professor's...'

As Harry dragged his exhausted body, worn out by all the training, toward the common room, he compared the two professors—Professor Moody's side was far more powerful in terms of offensive methods, the decisiveness of their spellcasting, and the damage of their incantations, but they had far fewer ways to retreat.

'He probably really did legally kill quite a few wizards...'

Harry hadn't taken Moody's classes, but as of today, the professor wasn't too difficult to get along with. Aside from being somewhat demanding and behaving a little strangely, he wasn't unpleasant to be around.

To be precise, he'd rather train multiple times in the evening than attend Potions class remedial lessons—aside from the embarrassment of being called for remedial lessons because of his poor Potions grades, Professor Slughorn's eyes, which practically treated him like prey, made Harry quite uncomfortable...

However, his physical exhaustion left him no time to think about anything else. He desperately wanted to get back to his dorm, take a shower, change his clothes, and then get some sleep before his evening tutoring session—just a little while, he was just too tired.

-

"Harry! I passed!"

When Harry appeared in the dormitory, Ron, who had been waiting impatiently, rushed over and gave Harry a big hug.

He really wanted to share this feeling with Harry, who had passed the preliminary round and was the best performer!

If he performs well enough in tomorrow's retest, he can join the college team as a formal member and start training!

"That's great, congratulations!"

Harry's exhausted face naturally showed a look of ecstatic joy—which he then quickly withdrew.

pain…

Although he used magic to treat the injury to his face that he sustained during training in the afternoon, Moody's healing spells are more for survival than for precision. Just now, when he grinned, he aggravated the wound... In short, it hurt a lot.

Your face…

Ron glanced at Harry's face, completely abandoning his earlier plan to boast about breaking his arm during his last save—it looked painful...

"Injuries during training are common."

"Dumbledore's lessons?"

Ron became interested—or rather, few in the entire wizarding world wouldn't be interested.

"Ah, no, this isn't it, it's Professor Moody's course... I haven't learned Dumbledore's yet..."

Harry was just about to tell Ron about Dumbledore's lessons when the dormitory door suddenly opened, and Neville walked in nervously, carrying a few books.

After briefly greeting the two of them, Neville returned to his bedside with a worried expression and began nervously flipping through the books he had brought back.

Interrupted by Neville, Harry lost interest in recounting what he had done. He quickly packed his clothes, took a shower and changed, then lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, sleeping until dinner time, when Ron woke him up in a daze.

"good evening."

Harry yawned as he got up, feeling sore all over.

"good evening."

Ron's smile still lingered, because after passing the preliminary test, many people now knew that the prefect of this year was a master of Quidditch, and could at least be among the top three goalkeepers in the entire house.

After all, it was the weekend, and many people came to ask about him. For Ron, he was quite satisfied even if he didn't make it into the school team, since many people thought he played Quidditch very well.

"Shall we go out for dinner?"

They called out to Neville, but he refused with a long face.

Before the two could even ask, Neville began to express his current confusion with a worried expression.

"Professor Slughorn thinks my potions are so terrible that he sent me a private letter asking me to come to his place for extra lessons tonight."

Neville looked up, his face full of fear.

"I…"

“I must have done terribly and messed everything up with him, even causing an explosion in his office.”

He desperately placed his hand on a pile of books, which Harry and Ron only then noticed were all books about potions, including some that Snape had mocked about quick potion-making techniques.

Ron and Harry were about to say something when Neville waved his hand, "I'm going to read a bit more. You guys go eat first, just remember to bring me back some sandwiches..."

"If Grandma knew I got a private tutoring session with the professor and then blew up his office, I can't even imagine what she'd say... Maybe another yelling letter..."

Neville was beyond persuasion, and Harry and Ron couldn't simply drag him away—given the books he was reading, if word got out, who knew how the Slytherin guys would laugh at him.

Reading a book might be helpful, even if it's not necessarily useful, at least it will make you feel less anxious.

...

"I still need to take extra lessons... That new professor is really..."

Ron sighed. "Neville's potions were indeed a disaster, and he definitely needed some guidance from the professor—but I think it's still Snape's fault. Neville's cauldron didn't explode last class, did it?"

"Tutoring..."

Ron paused, then looked at Harry with a slightly confused expression. "Wait, didn't you say you had to go to Professor Slughorn's tonight for training?"

He looked at Harry, and Harry looked at him; neither of them spoke.

...

Ron secretly pinched his thigh with his left hand, trying hard not to laugh and maintaining basic composure.

His potions scores weren't too different from Harry's, with Harry usually being slightly better, but this time—he wasn't dragged into extra lessons!

After a long while, Ron finally managed to control his expression and spoke to Harry without any emotion:

"Let's go eat first..."

Chapter 522 Slughorn's Great Victory

"This one, this one, and this one too."

In the vice-principal's office, William, who had been suddenly summoned, was utterly dumbfounded when he saw Professor McGonagall's stack of books on the table.

Good heavens, it's the weekend, and he was happily researching potion recipes when he was summoned by Professor McGonagall's message—but what he got was a huge stack of books?

"This is?"

He looked at the stack of books, somewhat puzzled—was he on a business trip?

That's impossible. He's a professor who teaches fifth grade. He might be slacking off during the holidays, but how could we let him go on a business trip during the teaching period?

"Neither the professors nor the students are easy to deal with."

Professor McGonagall said something in a low voice, but William didn't hear it clearly.

"Albus instructed me that in the coming days, you must read all of these books and understand them."

Professor McGonagall pushed a stack of books over. “That should be helpful to you—and Albus asked me to tell you to let him know before the storm comes.”

...

Is it really that obvious?

William froze for a moment, immediately realizing that his illegal study of Animagus had been discovered, and that the headmaster was willing to provide some necessary assistance during his transformation.

'Such reassuring words of advice...'

He took the books, said goodbye to Professor McGonagall, and then left the vice-chancellor's office carrying a thick stack of books.

He had read a lot of related materials himself, but they were certainly not as complete as the ones that Professor McGonagall had helped him pick out. Although this would affect the development progress of the potion he was considering, who cared about that now?

-

"hiss…"

The two sixth-graders who witnessed everything from the corner didn't even dare to greet the professor—it had only been a week since the start of the semester, and the authority the professor had left behind in fifth grade was long gone.

But this doesn't diminish their fear at all.

Eli, who was closest to the office, even had his hands trembling slightly; he seemed to have discovered some incredible secret.

“Eli,” the other Gryffindor said, his face pale, his body trembling with each thought uncontrollably, each part of him yearning for something else, “could it be…”

Eli swallowed hard. He had no desire to discuss this dangerous topic and just wanted to slip away quietly.

What does it mean that Professor William received a large amount of reference material from Professor McGonagall?

Any more questions? Professor McGonagall teaches Transfiguration, so where would she get so many books on self-defense? In other words, it must be Transfiguration-related content!

Why does Professor William have so many Transfiguration books? What use would a professor of self-defense have for them?

The only solution is to create exam papers...

'After self-defense, is it polymorphism next?'

Life is already painful enough; if you add another exam to the mix, what future is there to speak of?

"Is it a test paper?"

"Right..."

"We're doomed..."

"We're doomed..."

The two looked at each other, their eyes devoid of any hope for the future, as if under some curse, making even moving incredibly difficult.

"Hey, what are you two doing?"

The twins who were passing by glanced at the two sixth-graders—after all, they were in seventh grade.

Because of what happened last time, their skip-school candy is stuck there unsold, and the two are currently searching for inspiration to research new magic toys.

"Why are you looking at Professor McGonagall's office? Don't think that just because you're in sixth grade, none of the seventh graders would dare to joke with a professor!"

The two began to lecture their younger siblings—after all, they were all Gryffindors, and no one could predict what they might do. So it was best to take precautions.

"Sixth grade?"

"Yes, we're in sixth grade!"

The two looked at each other, and the immense burden instantly lifted from their shoulders—what did the fifth-grade exam plus a transformation test have to do with their sixth-grade studies?

Well, Professor William's choice was a bit too conservative.

What are a few books enough for? They bought quite a few reference books throughout the year; they could have easily sent them to the professor's office. Why make things difficult for the fifth graders?