After an enjoyable and lively Transfiguration css, the students left the cssroom in high spirits.

  “That teacher is amazing,” said William, Hoffa’s roommate, his eyes sparkling. “His css is so rexing.”

  “Absolutely,” chimed in Antonio, another roommate. “Honestly, those who quit are going to regret it.”

  “No doubt about it.”

  The students chatted excitedly about the recent Transfiguration css, their conversations filled with enthusiasm. The atmosphere buzzed with joy.

  Hoffa, however, seemed less engaged.

  They entered the third greenhouse, where their task for the day was to care for wrestling grass—a particurly aggressive and combative pnt.

  After Herbology, Hoffa headed straight to Potions, which was held in a rge underground cssroom. The room was filled with over forty cauldrons standing between wooden tables, along with an assortment of potion ingredients scattered across the surfaces.

  Professor Slughorn strolled among the smoky haze, pipe in hand, shouting instructions.

  “Get moving, everyone! Show me your intermediate potion-making skills! We have a lot to cover, a lot, a lot! This year, the Ministry of Magic has set up an evaluation station in Hogsmeade.

  “If you excel, I can recommend you for a great position in the Ministry—a bright future awaits, but only if you complete your tasks! Do you understand? Complete your tasks!”

  He repeated himself tirelessly as the students darted around like moles in a burrow, arms full of potion ingredients.

  Hoffa, however, ran into trouble.

  While Miranda was busy with her potion-making, Hoffa realized he couldn’t keep up with his cssmates—he was without a wand.

  William and Antonio stood beside their cauldrons, waving their wands as the liquid inside changed colors. Though their skills were mediocre, at least they were progressing. Hoffa’s cauldron, on the other hand, remained a pot of pin water.

  Slughorn wandered over and instinctively prepared to compliment Hoffa, but upon gncing into his cauldron, he saw that nothing had been done.

  Clearing his throat awkwardly, he patted Hoffa on the shoulder and said gently, “Don’t dawdle—get to it.”

  Feeling embarrassed, Hoffa gnced around. Miranda was casually tossing ingredients into her boiling cauldron, so he leaned over and whispered, “Could you help me out?”

  Miranda scratched her head apologetically.

  “I’m not great at potions. Why don’t you ask Agia?”

  No sooner had she spoken than her potion emitted a burnt odor, seeping an ominous brown liquid. Clearly, Miranda wasn’t much of a potions expert either.

  Left with no choice, Hoffa turned to Agia.

  Noticing his gaze, Agia, who was skillfully mixing ingredients, lifted her head, flipped her hair, and turned away.

  Hoffa felt awkward and brushed off.

  Miranda, unable to bear watching, handed Hoffa her wand. “Here, use mine for now.”

  Taking the wand, Hoffa spent ages tinkering with the cauldron, but nothing happened. The wand felt as unresponsive as a chopstick in his hand.

  Refusing to give up, he gave the wand a forceful flick.

  _Boom!_

  With a deafening explosion, his cauldron burst. Water spshed everywhere, and potion ingredients flew through the air.

  The entire css froze, staring at Hoffa in stunned silence. Then, all eyes turned toward him in the middle of the cssroom.

  There he stood, soaked to the skin, with herbs in his hair, an octopus tentacle draped around his neck, and a leech squirming on his face.

  The room erupted in ughter.

  Slughorn sighed dramatically, covering his face. Miranda retrieved her wand, suppressing her own amusement.

  “Forget it. Don’t use it anymore—just work with me,” she said, stifling a chuckle.

  The Potions css sted five grueling hours, during which Hoffa endured relentless embarrassment.

  After css, Hoffa wanted to visit the library to find information on wandless magic, but his packed schedule left no time. This year, the school seemed determined to cram every ounce of knowledge into the students’ heads, leaving no room to breathe or rest.

  It felt like being part of a coal-powered train, relentlessly charging forward with no stopping until the destination was reached.

  By the end of the week, Hoffa was utterly drained.

  On Thursday afternoon, Miranda compined bitterly in the hallway after css. “Five hours of Potions and three hours of Herbology in one day? Is Hogwarts trying to become Europe’s Potions Headquarters?”

  “They’re doing it for your benefit. If you don’t learn enough, you’ll get blown up out there,” Hoffa said, trying to console her.

  Miranda rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. This year’s Potions and Herbology are pure bor. They’re just treating us like sves.”

  Hoffa stayed silent, secretly agreeing with her compint. Hogwarts felt more like a factory these days than a magical school.

  As they headed to the Great Hall for lunch, they heard a commotion ahead. A group of students had gathered around the noticeboard, their faces alight with excitement as they watched magical letters dance across a bckboard.

  “What’s that?” Miranda asked curiously.

  A notice?

  Hoffa craned his neck to read from the edge of the crowd. On the board, a glowing, self-writing chalk was scribbling:

  “Magical Beasts Css Selection will begin Friday afternoon. All third-year students must participate. Selected students will undergo six months of special training on the Hebridean Isnds, exempting them from all other coursework during the training period.”

  Special training, exempt from other courses?

  The announcement piqued Hoffa’s interest immediately. If selected, he might escape the relentless grind of his current schedule.

  Miranda squeezed through the crowd to read the notice herself.

  Afterward, she nudged Hoffa.

  “Hey, do you think the Magical Beasts teacher is Agia’s father?”

  “Probably,” Hoffa replied.

  “Then maybe if we ask Agia, her dad could give us a little help—open a back door for us, you know?” Miranda suggested eagerly. “Six months without csses sounds pretty tempting.”

  Hoffa stared at her in disbelief. “Why are you so well-versed in this?”

  As they spoke, Agia passed by, her expression indifferent. Beside her was her ever-present companion, the blonde prefect Sherlock.

  These days, Agia had barely spoken to Hoffa, her attitude lukewarm. She neither ignored him deliberately nor sought him out. Most of her time was spent with her cousin.

  Hoffa felt as though he had been relegated to the status of a mere acquaintance.

  Watching her walk away, the two by the noticeboard exchanged gnces.

  “That professor is amazing,” William, hoffa’s roommate, said with stars in his eyes. “His lessons are so rexing.”

  “Absolutely,” Antonio, another roommate, agreed. “I say, let those who left regret their decision.”

  “Exactly.”

  The students chatted enthusiastically about the just-concluded Transfiguration css, their conversations creating a cheerful atmosphere. hoffa, however, seemed a bit disinterested.

  Later, they entered the third greenhouse, where their task was to care for Battle Grass, an unusually aggressive and combative pnt.

  After Herbology, hoffa headed to Potions css, which was held in a rge underground room. The cssroom was filled with over forty cauldrons and tables piled high with ingredients.

  Professor Slughorn, with a pipe in his mouth, strolled around in a cloud of smoke, loudly urging, “Get to it! Take out your intermediate potion-making skills! We have a lot to cover—so much to learn! This year, the Ministry of Magic has set up assessment points in Hogsmeade.

  “If you perform well, I can recommend you for a good position in the Ministry, paving the way for a bright future. But you must complete the tasks. Do you hear me? Complete the tasks!”

  He repeated himself tirelessly, while the students scurried about like moles, clutching potion ingredients in their hands.

  hoffa held his materials but encountered a problem. Without his wand, he found it impossible to keep up with the other students’ progress.

  William and Antonio stood by their cauldrons, waving their wands to change the colors of their concoctions. Though neither of them was particurly skilled, at least they were making progress. hoffa’s cauldron, however, remained filled with nothing but clear water.

  Slughorn wandered over and, about to praise hoffa, peered into his cauldron and saw he hadn’t even started. Awkwardly, Slughorn coughed and patted hoffa on the shoulder. “Don’t dawdle—get moving.”

  Embarrassed, hoffa gnced around and saw Miranda casually tossing ingredients into her bubbling cauldron. He leaned over and whispered, “Could you help me with this?”

  Miranda scratched her head. “I’m not great at Potions. Why don’t you ask Agea?”

  No sooner had she spoken than her potion emitted a burnt smell, oozing an ominous brown liquid. Clearly, Miranda wasn’t much of a potions expert.

  hoffa, out of options, turned his gaze to Agea.

  Noticing his look, Agea, who was expertly mixing ingredients, immediately lifted her chin, flicked her hair, and turned away.

  Defeated, hoffa sulked. Miranda, seeing this, handed him her wand. “Here, use mine for now.”

  hoffa took Miranda’s wand and fiddled with his cauldron, but nothing happened. It felt as useless as stirring with a chopstick.

  Unwilling to give up, hoffa swung the wand forcefully.

  “Boom!”

  With a loud bang, his cauldron exploded. Water spshed everywhere, and potion ingredients flew through the air. The surrounding students froze in shock before bursting into ughter, all eyes turning to hoffa at the center of the chaos.

  Soaked from head to toe, with herbs stuck to his hair, an octopus tentacle draped around his neck, and a leech wriggling on his face, hoffa was a sight to behold.

  The css erupted in ughter. Slughorn sighed and covered his face, while Miranda stifled her giggles as she retrieved her wand.

  “Forget it—don’t use my wand. Just work with me,” she said.

  The Potions lesson sted a grueling five hours, leaving hoffa in an awkward position the entire time.

  After css, he pnned to visit the library to research wandless magic but found no time—his schedule was packed. It felt as though the school was cramming knowledge into their heads like a relentless machine, leaving no room to breathe.

  Like coal-powered locomotives, the students were forced to charge forward relentlessly, their exhaustion evident.

  By the end of a few days, hoffa was utterly drained.

  At noon on Thursday, Miranda vented her frustrations in the hallway. “Five hours of Potions and three hours of Herbology every day—is Hogwarts pnning to become Europe’s Potions Headquarters?”

  “They’re just trying to prepare you. If you don’t learn enough, you’ll blow yourself up out there,” hoffa tried to console her.

  Miranda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. This year, Potions and Herbology are nothing but physical bor. It’s like they’re treating us like sves.”

  hoffa didn’t reply, though he secretly agreed. It felt like Hogwarts had transformed from a magical school into a factory.

  As they walked toward the Great Hall for lunch, they encountered a crowd gathered around the bulletin board, staring excitedly at glowing magical text on the wall.

  “What’s that?” Miranda asked curiously.

  “Some announcement from the school?”

  Standing on tiptoe, hoffa glimpsed glowing words being written by a self-moving chalk on a bckboard:

  “Magical Creatures Css Selection will begin Friday afternoon. All third-year students must participate. Selected students will undergo six months of special training in the Hebrides Isnds, exempting them from all other courses during the period.”

  Special training? Exemption from all other csses?

  Seeing the announcement, hoffa felt intrigued. If selected, he could escape the mechanical grind of his current schedule.

  Miranda also read the notice, then nudged hoffa. “Hey, do you think that Magical Creatures professor is Agea’s father?”

  “Probably,” hoffa replied.

  “Then if we ask Agea, maybe she could get her dad to pull some strings for us,” Miranda suggested eagerly. “Half a year without csses sounds pretty tempting!”

  hoffa stared at her in disbelief. “Why are you so skilled at this?”

  As they spoke, Agea walked past, her expression indifferent, accompanied by her blonde cousin, Sherlock.

  Lately, Agea had been distant, neither avoiding nor approaching hoffa. Most of her time was spent with her cousin, leaving hoffa feeling like a stranger.

  Watching her walk away, Miranda muttered, “Did you do something to upset her over the summer?”

  hoffa rolled his eyes. “Do I seem like that kind of person?”

  “Fair point,” Miranda admitted. “You’re as clueless as ever.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You should apologize,” Miranda suggested.

  “Apologize for what? I didn’t do anything,” hoffa protested.

  “Are you sure you don’t find her annoying?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why are you acting so aloof?”

  “I’m aloof? You’re joking, right?”

  Miranda shrugged. “It’s been a week since you two st talked.”

  “Look, it takes two to tango,” hoffa said defensively.

  “Who says it doesn’t? A sp to the face makes plenty of noise,” Miranda teased.

  “Get lost.”

  “You’re surprisingly good at giving people the cold shoulder,” Miranda added mischievously.

  hoffa groaned, “What nonsense are you spouting now?”

  “Just go talk to her already,” Miranda urged, giving him a push. “I still want her to pull some strings for us.”

  Reluctantly, hoffa approached Agea, but the encounter didn’t go as pnned...

  Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

  https://patreon.com/Glimmer09