0347 Sad Things

Generally speaking, the Friday evenings were the most relaxed and eagerly anticipated time for the young witches and wizards at Hogwarts. The weekend offered a much-needed relief, and tomorrow was another such coveted occasion when the picturesque wizarding village of Hogsmeade would be open to students. However, within the cozy confines of each house's common room, typically bustling with spirited chatter, now hung heavy and somber atmosphere.

Ginny, had just finished criticizing her pompous older brother Percy, but after that, an uneasy silence descended upon the assembled students, none daring to break the palpable tension.

"Anyway—" Seamus finally shrugged, and voiced what everyone was thinking, "I've decided to give up. Honestly, I don't see any point in this class—I mean, if I want to exercise, I have many choices, rather than running around the Quidditch pitch like a starving idiot before dawn every day, circling the goal posts endlessly."

The fact was, in the wizarding world, Quidditch was the beloved pastime of everyone, cherished and revered by young and old alike. If Professor Watson had intended to teach them advanced flying skills, this laborious and tedious routine certainly wouldn't have been the chosen method.

"I agree—" Dean Thomas raised his hand as well, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "Professor Watson may have his unorthodox methods for teaching us to deal with dark creatures, but I can't let this class disrupt the delicate balance of my life at school any longer."

Among those engaged in the heated discussion, the one undoubtedly most affected by Professor Watson's unconventional course was Hermione. She had ambitiously chosen the most courses of anyone, and she devoted a considerable portion of her evenings to meticulously preparing for classes and voraciously devouring books of knowledge. Professor Watson's rigorous physical education class had unquestionably disrupted her finely-tuned rhythm, causing her immense worry.

Of course, Harry as well as the mischievous Weasley twins, Fred and George, were also troubled by the arduous demands of this perplexing class.

The three of them were all vital members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and their uncompromising captain, Oliver Wood, would certainly not excuse them from the regular twice-weekly evening Quidditch practices simply because they had added an intensive physical training course to their already daunting schedules.

To be perfectly honest, the primary reason the Weasley children had persevered until now was mostly out of deep gratitude to Professor Watson, who saved them from the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and this favor could never be forgotten or repaid. Otherwise, neither the fun-loving pranksters Fred and George, nor the often-lazy Ron, would have continued to subject themselves to such grueling things. On the contrary, the spirited Ginny still had expectations for the future development of this course.

"Malfoy's two lackeys gave up the second day. I thought Professor Watson would be furious—" Ron muttered, his voice laced with bewilderment.

This was indeed a puzzling and unprecedented situation. No professor at Hogwarts would typically stand idly by as students casually abandoned their course, but Professor Watson seemed to regard the dwindling number of students with an indifferent, almost casual disregard. He just required those who remained present to complete their daily tasks, turning a blind eye to the steadily diminishing number of students, much to the dismay of the dedicated students.

"What does Sirius say, Harry? Have you asked him?" Hermione looked at Harry, her voice tinged with cautious curiosity.

"No—" Harry shook his head, his unruly hair locks swaying with the motion. "But I can ask him about it tomorrow when we go to Hogsmeade together."

There was nothing much to say tonight. Since Professor Watson had mandated their early morning runs, the near-three-year tradition of late-night chats in the cozy Gryffindor dormitory had vanished, replaced by weary complaints. They now hurried to complete the assignments for their various classes, then hastened to their beds before ten o'clock, lest they stumble and fall from the ever-shifting staircases due to overwhelming drowsiness when venturing downstairs at the crack of dawn.

The alarm sounded with punctual precision at the first pale glimmers of dawn, its shrill tones slicing through the heavy slumber. Harry, with the practiced ease, skillfully silenced it with a slap of his hand, drawing in a deep, steadying breath as his eyes remained tightly closed.

Groggily, he stripped off his tattered pajamas and pulled on one of Dudley's oversized, ill-fitting T-shirts—most of his Muggle clothes were hand-me-downs from his grotesquely spoiled cousin. During his regrettable years living with the Dursley family, his magic-fearing aunt and uncle wouldn't have condescended to prepare well-fitting clothes for their unwanted nephew. In fact they considered the act of feeding him daily to be an immense and undeserved kindness, believing he should be eternally grateful they hadn't starved him to death.

After entering the wizarding world, Harry had learned that his parents, had left him a substantial inheritance stored in the underground vaults of the Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

This considerable fortune would be more than enough to comfortably sustain him throughout his seven years at Hogwarts, yet he was still a bit too young and inexperienced to indulge in lavish spending. Of course, Harry could have easily used a portion of his newfound wealth to acquire proper athletic wear, sleek sneakers, and other coveted Muggle clothes he had longed for during his deprived childhood. However, by now, he no longer felt the urgent need to do so, content with his modest belongings.

Professor Watson's boring physical education class hadn't been entirely useless. At the very least, after the grueling half-month, Harry had grown accustomed to the unforgiving routine of rousing before the break of dawn, a stark contrast to that first day morning when the groggy students of their Gryffindor dormitory had nearly crawled down the stairs in a zombie-like trance.

By the time Harry returned to the dormitory after freshening up in the communal bathroom, he was completely awake. His schedule for the day was delightfully relaxed. After completing the mandatory exercise schedule and hastily eating breakfast, he planned to return to his dormitory to catch up on much-needed sleep. Before ten o'clock, he would depart for Hogsmeade, thanks to his godfather Sirius allowing him to visit openly rather than using the secret passageway concealed behind the stoic statue of the Hunchbacked Witch.

Lunch would also be taken care of in Hogsmeade followed by an eagerly anticipated shopping to Honeydukes to replenish his dwindling reserves of candies and sweets. A subsequent visit to the Zonko's Joke Shop was also in order, to stock up on an arsenal of Dungbombs—while Harry himself harbored no particular fondness for such crass pranks, Malfoy's recent malicious antics had convinced him of their strategic necessity as a deterrent against future attacks.

Hermione would undoubtedly insist on a academic detour to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop to replenish her rapidly depleting supply of quills, ink, and parchment, or perhaps browse through the stacks of Tomes and Scrolls. Her quills, ink, notebooks, and other things were always the first to be consumed amongst the studious young witches and wizards. All of these would likely consume the entirety of their afternoon in the tranquil village. Before five o'clock, they would need to hurry back to the familiar confines of Hogwarts, hastening to join in the evening feast in the Great Hall.

Upon returning to the Gryffindor common room, they would complete the complex astronomical star charts assigned for that evening. And, as was their new tradition, the evening would inevitably conclude in a round of complaints and lamentations regarding the unorthodox demands of Professor Watson's confusing physical education class.

When Harry walked out of the bathroom, freshly energized, and re-entered the still-gloomy confines of the dormitory, the scene that greeted him gave him momentary pause, a heavy silence enveloping him like a shroud.

Dean and Seamus had made their intentions explicitly clear the previous evening—they would quit Professor Watson's taxing course. Once they abandoned the class, there would be no pathway for regret; this was the uncompromising announcement Professor Watson had issued on that very first day.

Ron had refrained from voicing his stance the previous night, but his current actions spoke louder than any words.

Harry and Ron's beds were positioned side-by-side, an unspoken testament to their friendship. Ron must have woken up by the sounds of Harry's morning preparations, yet he now lay utterly motionless, his face obscured by his blanket in a futile attempt to feign sleep.

Even through the muffling layers of fabric, Harry could sense the palpable aura of guilt emanating from his best friend.

"They--"

Neville, who had just emerged from his own bed in a tangle of sheets, obviously realized the implications of the unfolding situation. His gaze flickered uncertainly between the three unmoving beds and Harry, whose expression had grown momentarily dull and inscrutable. Neville opened his mouth, the words seeming to catch in his throat as he struggled to voice the uncomfortable truth.

From the day they had first set foot in Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had been inseparable. Belonging to the same house of Gryffindor, sharing the the same dormitory, attending the classes together—the duration Harry had spent in Ron's company far exceeded even that of Hermione, who often devoted herself in the dusty stacks of the library for larger chunks of time. Moreover, beginning in their third year, she had selected several additional elective courses beyond those taken by Harry and Ron, significantly diminishing the number of hours they could pass together compared to their prior carefree years.

"Hurry up, Neville—" Harry responded, his voice tinged with worry yet devoid of rebuke as he made no attempt to rouse Ron from his feigned sleep. He himself could not even guarantee his own ability to continue through this course. "Being late will be treated as giving up by Professor Watson."

When Harry and Neville finally jogged shoulder-to-shoulder onto the grounds beneath the towering Quidditch goal posts, most of the other remaining students had already gathered in silent groups. The Gryffindors immediately realized the implications of witnessing only Harry and Neville's solitary arrivals.

"That idiot!"

Ginny, having managed to tidy her hair into a neat style, looked like a feisty little lioness, and angrily growled without her usual Harry-induced stuttering, "If it weren't for Professor Watson, he—we—would have died in the Chamber of Secrets!"

"It's no big deal, Ginny—" Harry spoke in a casual dismissive tone, attempting to downplay the situation. "Professor Watson won't mind this. Maybe I'll give up in a couple days too."

Before he and Neville had arrived, Ginny, Hermione, and that eccentric Ravenclaw second-year girl—now Harry knew her name was Luna Lovegood—had been engaged in hushed conversation. This odd girl seemed utterly unconcerned with common norms, dressing herself in a whimsically chaotic manner each day and uttering bizarre, confusing statements that left everyone bewildered.

Harry thought Hermione would be equally angry as Ginny, but in fact, Hermione looked like she was indeed angry. She tightly pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows, and seemed to be questioning herself. But in the end, Hermione just moved her lips without saying anything, her complexion was gloomy as if she hadn't slept all night.

"Your friend made the wrong choice—" Luna spoke in that vague, dreamy accent of hers as she waved her hand through the air in an oddly mesmerizing gesture as she often did. "He shouldn't give up this interesting class."

'Interesting?!'

To be honest, this judgment is not recognized by anyone else, even by Ginny and Hermione. They also don't think this class is interesting. They have just persisted for various personal reasons.

In the eyes of these young witches and wizards, this was undoubtedly the most mind-numbingly boring course in their entire academic curriculum. At the very least, they could sleep during Professor Binns's lectures on goblin rebellions to pass the endless hours!

"Hey, Potter!"

Draco always seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to keenly detect any misfortune or negativity befalling upon Harry. From nearly a dozen paces away, he craned his pale, pointed face forward, a malicious sneer twisting his face as he loudly taunted, "Your freckle-faced friend abandoned you, didn't he? Ha, look at that pathetic expression etched across your face, Scarhead!"

"Shove off, Malfoy!"

Before Harry could respond, Hermione and Ginny simultaneously "roared" to everyone's astonishment!

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