Chapter 135: The Daily Routine of the First Day of School

The next day was Friday, which meant the young wizards only had to attend one class on their first day back before welcoming a two-day weekend. They were still lingering in the mindset of their summer holidays while simultaneously yearning for the upcoming weekend, completely failing to settle into a studious state.

Observing this, Professor Voflin decided to skip the new material during the first period, Charms, and instead simply reviewed the spells taught in the previous school year.

Cywen sat distractedly in his seat, which was arranged horizontally facing the center of the classroom, lost in thoughts of the previous night.

"So, is there anyone who knows a way to treat the Greengrass family blood curse?" Cywen had asked Professor Enriques privately when he found an opportunity in the school infirmary last night.

"In truth, I am not aware of one," Professor Enriques replied, shaking his head apologetically. "The Greengrass blood curse has been passed down for far too long. If there were truly a solution, given the wealth and connections they possess as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they would have resolved the problem of the curse long ago."

Although Professor Enriques did not state it explicitly, his implication was that Eliona’s symptoms were likely incurable.

Cywen found this difficult to accept. What kind of curse could persist for hundreds of years, haunting the bloodline of the Greengrass family like a nightmare? What story had their family lived through, and what enemies had they offended, to be tainted by such a powerful blood curse?

While he was lost in thought, Cywen felt Abraxas nudge him twice from the side. He looked up blankly to see Professor Voflin standing in the center of the room, looking at him with a faint, inscrutable smile.

"It seems our top-ranking student no longer feels the need to review. Is that right, Mr. Rosier?"

"I am sorry, Professor." Cywen hurriedly stood up, resigning himself to apologize to Professor Voflin. "I was just caught in a moment of distraction."

"Very well, why don't you demonstrate the Dancing Feet Spell for everyone? You did quite well in your final exam last semester!" Professor Voflin pointed his chin at a book titled *Magical Theory* standing on a desk in the middle of the room. "As for whether Slytherin will lose points for your distraction, that will depend on your performance."

Cywen reluctantly raised his wand and cast the spell at the copy of *Magical Theory* on the table.

"Tarantallegra."

The thick book used its spine and slightly fanned-out pages as feet, breaking into a spirited breakdance on the desktop. Professor Voflin, with great amusement, used his own wand to conjure a piece of passionate, rhythmic music, which forced Cywen to adjust the frequency of the spell to ensure the book landed each "step" in time with the beat.

By the time the piece ended, Cywen was exhausted from several minutes of intense, focused control.

Seeing his performance, Professor Voflin nodded in satisfaction and led the applause, which soon echoed throughout the classroom.

"Do you see, everyone? That is the correct way to use the Dancing Feet Spell!" Professor Voflin announced loudly to the students after the applause died down. "Look at what you were using during last semester's finals! Especially some of you—if I hadn't heard you reciting the incantation, I would have suspected you were using the Cruciatus Curse! Making a pear dance shouldn't result in it looking like it's in such agony..."

Professor Voflin’s scathing critique left the young wizards trembling in silence.

"Mr. Rosier did very well. In that case, I shall not deduct points from Slytherin for your distraction this time." After finishing his lecture, the professor looked at Cywen and said, "Mm, you may sit down."

Only then did Cywen let out a breath of relief and return to his seat.

With the experience of Professor Voflin’s Charms class as a lesson, Cywen dared not let his mind wander during his two afternoon classes. As it happened, History of Magic was once again scheduled on the same afternoon as Herbology, and on a Friday at that—the very moment the weekend was about to begin. Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, seemed entirely unaware of the restless, excited atmosphere of the students, droning on in his eternally dull, monotonous tone about the curriculum for second years, and as usual, assigning a mountain of homework.

As for Herbology, the final class of the Friday, it remained Cywen’s number one nightmare. As expected, he was once again called to the front of Greenhouse One by Professor Eased, acting as an assistant to demonstrate the proper handling of Bouncing Bulb.

When Herbology ended, the students rushed out of the greenhouses in high spirits, bolting toward the northwest side of the castle.

"Are you lot coming with me to the Quidditch pitch?" Abraxas darted over, his face glowing with excitement as he threw his arms around the shoulders of Cywen and Mobley. "We’re second years now; Hogwarts finally allows us to bring our own broomsticks!"

As he spoke, Abraxas pulled a delicately wrapped broomstick from a cylindrical container. It seemed he had finally convinced his family to grant him the use of an Undetectable Extension Charm-enhanced container.

"Did you notice the advertisements in the *Daily Prophet* before the start of term?" Abraxas asked his three roommates as he carefully unwrapped the broom. "The Comet Trading Company released the Comet 180 a while ago. It’s the most classical-looking and beautiful broomstick in years. And it’s also the fastest!"

"So, is this the latest Comet 180?" Cywen looked at Abraxas’s smug expression—he might as well have had "praise me" written on his face—so he played along with a silent sigh.

Upon hearing Cywen’s question, Abraxas nodded with satisfaction and ceremoniously removed the final layer of packaging, revealing the antique-style broomstick to the group.

"It is quite beautiful," Mobley said after a glance. "But I don't care much for it. I don't want to fall from the sky again."

Gomez took a look, then turned away with little interest. After all, he couldn't afford such a broomstick anyway.

Abraxas finally turned his hopeful gaze toward Cywen, wishing for him to show some interest in accompanying him to the Quidditch pitch to test the new broom.

"Oh, I have something to discuss with Dumbledore in a moment. Sorry!" Cywen ruthlessly shattered Abraxas’s hopeful expression.

"Damn it, you lot really have no taste!" Abraxas shouted in frustration.