William had no intention of inciting students to cause trouble in the school castle for personal gain.
He had only heard of such manipulative tactics but had no practical experience or desire to engage in them.
He was the Professor of Magical Self-Defense, not Political Science—
"So, you're planning a protest?"
William leaned forward, resting his arms on the lectern, and asked with a smile.
The students below fell silent. Sixth-year students weren't as aggressive as the nearly graduating seventh-year veterans. Without a seventh-year student to take the lead, no one volunteered to stage a protest.
'Hmm, no money, no goal, no demands. A protest—why am I even thinking about this?'
"If you're not planning to protest, ladies and gentlen, we should start class. You're already quite late, and if we don't hurry, I might have to double the howork."
Perhaps it was that last sentence that did the trick, as the students' attention imdiately sharpened, and they stopped fretting over their confiscated books.
"Excellent. This lesson is crucial: the use of nonverbal spells."
William pulled out his wand and demonstrated—without uttering a single incantation, chalk began to scribble rapidly on the blackboard under the wand's command.
Although it felt a bit like learning on the fly, William's nonverbal spells were indeed quite proficient at this point.
"Class," he clapped his hands, drawing the students' attention from the chalk back to him, "the theory in the textbook is a bit brief. I intend to elaborate a little, though, of course, this might be a bit tedious for you."
"After all," William said with a smile, "you practically taught yourselves to pass the OWLs!"
The students below chuckled—even though so of them had only made it into the advanced class because William had gone easy on them, passing the exams when professors were replaced annually and most terms were incomplete was a source of pride, no matter how one looked at it.
After quickly adding so content that might make things easier to understand, William observed the students' reactions while rapidly making marks on his lesson plan with his wand.
He wasn't planning to teach only this one batch of students; he couldn't always assu students had astonishing comprehension skills and could grasp the essence of nonverbal spells from a few simple words in a textbook, could he?
"Mastering nonverbal spells has always been a recognized difficulty—in fact, in practical application, you might even find nonverbal spells to be nothing special, even affecting the performance of normal spells."
Closing his lesson plan, William began to share his personal insights on nonverbal spells.
"As you should know, a standard spell consists of sufficient magic, a standard incantation, clear consciousness, and standard hand gestures."
"For beginner spells, even a slight deviation can cause a spell to undergo strange changes, or even harm the caster themselves. But nonverbal spells, without even using an incantation, can ensure the spell has no deviations whatsoever."
"Let's discuss, why does this happen? No need to stand up, just speak from your seats—we don't need the standard textbook answers, just briefly talk about other possibilities you think of."
William spread his hands, indicating that the students could speak.
"Is it about proficiency with spells?"
"Hmm, there's so truth to that. Anything else?"
"Understanding the spell's effect?"
"That also makes so sense."
…
"Does it have sothing to do with the spell's inclination, Professor?"
"Interesting insight, three points to Ravenclaw. Elaborate on how you thought of that."
'I hadn't thought of this one, I'll jot it down.'
William secretly made notes on his lesson plan—in publicly available books, the textbook content for sixth-year advanced classes was quite limited. He wondered if it was because advanced students were expected to easily understand the material or if it was a matter of knowledge monopolization.
'Probably both, given it's a country that includes Latin in civil service exams.'
However, the restricted section of the library was open to professors by default, so William didn't have to worry about finding reference books; the students' discussion was rely a supplent.
—
"Alright, class dismissed."
The dismissal bell interrupted the students' lively discussion, and also awakened William's strongly suppressed curiosity.
"One essay, on your insights into nonverbal spells. Although you've surely encountered nonverbal spells in other subjects, unfortunately, this one falls under my purview. Make it exciting, or it'll be sent back for a rewrite."
After a bucket of cold water extinguished the students' montum to continue discussing, William quickly walked towards the classroom door.
"Oh, and don't bring your textbooks to the next class. We'll have two practical lessons directly. Rember to bring your essays."
Stepping out of the classroom, William feigned a move, announcing to the students inside the door.
Ignoring the cheers from behind, William suppressed the urge to run and quickly walked towards Filch's office.
'It's been a week. If there are no deviations, that culprit book should be found by now. Will it be a cult book or a sacrificial ritual?'
Making such guesses, he began to consider the protective magic he would need later.
"Oh, right, I can prepare a protection class on evil rituals based on this incident. Only sixth and seventh years, the fifth years will continue as previously arranged."
He was in an exceptionally good mood—the problem that had troubled him for a week finally showed a glimr of resolution, making him unusually relaxed.
Just as he almost couldn't help humming a tune, a flash of fiery red appeared before his eyes.
'Weasley again?'
A good day had co to an end.
Like a needle pricking a balloon, William's good mood instantly vanished.
Although the Weasley before him wasn't the one who had caused trouble at his feast, that fiery red hair made him unable to resist making connections.
'This is Professor McGonagall's office. What's wrong with her?'
"Ah! Professor!"
The mont he observed the little girl, this girl nad Ginny bristled like a startled cat.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing, Professor, nothing—"
She stamred her excuses, which made William suspicious—students who had done sothing wrong usually acted this way.
William imdiately stopped and looked at the room.
It was Professor McGonagall's office.
'Could she be trying to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office?'
This strange thought popped into William's head.
Although, theoretically, no Gryffindor had dared to do this so far, the Weasleys—not that William was prejudiced against them, but each one was more mischievous than the last.
Just as he was pondering which school rule applied to the current situation, the office door opened, and Professor McGonagall stepped out.
"Professor! I'm reporting Percy! He's dating the Ravenclaw prefect!~"
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