History of Magic is a dull subject, everyone at Hogwarts knows that.

After all, the professor who teaches this class is a ghost, a ghost who has lived at Hogwarts for nearly a thousand years.

It’s uncertain whether it’s because he’s been a ghost for so long, but Professor Bin speaks in a wheezing and dragging tone that can certainly make one drowsy within ten minutes; if the weather is hot, five minutes would suffice.

However, for those students who want to catch up on sleep, this is a good thing, as Professor Bin focuses solely on his lecture, never bothering with what the students are doing in class.

In other words, as long as you don’t barbecue openly in class or do anything too outrageous, Professor Bin basically turns a blind eye.

Harry fell asleep after persevering for two minutes, while Ron, feeling bored, tugged at Seamus to play hangman on the corner of their parchment, with Hermione glaring at them sharply from beside.

If looks could cause injury, perhaps Ron and Seamus’s craniums would be shining bright.

"I should say," Harry said, stretching lazily after class, "History of Magic is indeed one of my favorite subjects, I swear, I fall asleep faster in History of Magic class than I do in bed."

"I also like History of Magic," Ron and Seamus chuckled together, "I’d rather call it ’study hall’."

At the podium, Professor Bin floated through the blackboard and drifted away.

"What if I don’t lend you my notes this year?" Hermione asked Ron coldly.

"Then we’d fail our History of Magic O.W.Ls," Ron said, "if you want your conscience to bother you, Hermione?"

"Well, it’s your own fault," she retorted sharply, "you weren’t even listening to his lecture, were you?"

"We tried," Ron said, "we just don’t have a brain like yours, a memory like yours, such good concentration—you’re just smarter than us—could you stop bringing up what’s not helpful?"

"Humph, don’t try to butter me up," Hermione said, but her expression betrayed her inner thoughts.

"I think she’s quite pleased now," Harry turned to Annie beside him and whispered.

"Oh... oh," Annie nodded, glancing at Hermione and then at Ron.

Though she was sorted into Slytherin, she still preferred being with her old friends.

As long as she was not in the dormitory, Annie would always look for Harry’s presence.

The Slytherin students had long become accustomed to it; it’s typical for each transfer student—from Miss Grindelwald to Miss Malfoy, and now Miss Salu—it’s like the scar-headed boy from Gryffindor has some kind of magic.

Sometimes they doubted whether Potter had doused himself in some permanent Love Potion.

"So, did you take notes?" Harry asked Annie.

"Yes, I did," Annie took out her notebook, handing it to Harry, "Do you want to take a look?"

"Oh, not for now," Harry chuckled, "It’s still time before exams; moreover, I’ve already taken the fifth-year O.W.Ls..."

"Yes," Annie also smiled, "You scored ten Os, Miss Cassandra was quite pleased."

"She was happy?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," Annie smiled lightly.

This really surprised Harry.

They planned to get some fresh air outside the castle after class.

Fine drizzle fell from the sky, September in the United Kingdom was already chilly.

They found a secluded spot under a dripping balcony, turned up the collars of their robes against the September wind, discussing what assignments Professor Snape would give them in the first Magic Potion class of the year.

"Did you finish your homework?" Hermione turned to Ron, "The homework Professor Snape assigned at the end of last term?"

"Of course finished," Ron said proudly, "It’s just homework! I already wrote it!"

"It looks like you’re quite pleased," Hermione glanced at Ron, "I really hope you don’t make the same mistake this year, you should know you seem to have something special, right? Whenever you speak ill of Professor Snape, he somehow catches you."

"I know," Ron sighed, "I definitely won’t say anything bad about him anymore unless it’s somewhere he can’t go."

"Which means, the Gryffindor common room," Harry patted Ron’s shoulder, "In the dormitory if you want to say something bad, feel free; I doubt he’ll appear there to catch you, right?"

"I think so too," Ron nodded in agreement, but inwardly he vowed never to speak ill of Snape again.

As the saying goes, if people can’t teach people, then events can—it seems Ron has learned, and learned well.

After getting some fresh air, the class bell rang once more.

"Class again," Ron sighed.

"It’s something we have to face; this class is Magic Potion class," Harry chuckled.

"Ah..." Ron moaned up toward the sky, "I really don’t want to go to this class... Is there any way I can skip it, brothers?"