Chapter Twenty: The Punishment for Skipping Class

When Xiven awoke from his heavy slumber, there was little sunlight left streaming into the dormitory through the waters of the Black Lake outside the window; the room felt rather dim. He opened his bleary eyes, dazed for a moment, then suddenly sat up wide-eyed.

“Damn! What time is it?” he exclaimed, cold sweat breaking out on his back. He fumbled about, turning sideways to search for his pocket watch under the pillow, only to discover it had slipped out from his collar.

“At last, you’re awake!” came Abraxas’s voice from the bed opposite. “Do you realize you’ve missed all your afternoon classes?”

“Indeed, that’s impressive—skipping classes on only the second day of term,” Mobley said admiringly, then called out to Gomez to light the chandelier. “Gomez, Xiven’s awake. You can light the lamps now!”

Gomez gave Xiven a look of admiration before standing up, walking over to the dormitory door, and pulling a cord nearby.

A sound like the snap of fingers rang out above the chandelier, and a flurry of sparks struck the candles lining it with perfect precision. The dormitory was immediately bathed in bright light.

Xiven groaned, covering his face in both annoyance and to shield himself from the sudden glare. His voice was muffled as he said, “Why didn’t any of you wake me up…”

“Have you forgotten? You’re the only one among us who naps. The three of us didn’t even come back to the dorm,” Abraxas said with a look of disdain.

“And besides, the walk from the Herbology classroom to History of Magic isn’t exactly short. Plus, we’re not familiar with the castle yet—there was no time to come back for you!” Mobley added.

Xiven let out a deep sigh, feeling as if all hope had left his life.

“Oh, by the way, Prefect Pruitt just brought a note for you—it’s from the Deputy Headmistress,” Gomez suddenly interjected.

Xiven glanced at the desk and, sure enough, there lay half a sheet of parchment.

It read: “Mr. Rozier: Please come to my office immediately upon reading this. — Galadia Melus.” The bottom of the parchment included detailed directions to the Deputy Headmistress’s office.

Xiven pressed his forehead in despair. “Great, I suppose I won’t live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

Under the sympathetic gazes of his three roommates, Xiven left the dormitory, his steps heavy as he made his way to Professor Melus’s office.

The Deputy Headmistress’s office was on the second floor of the main tower, quite close to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. After ascending the marble staircase, a left turn led to a finely crafted wooden door.

Xiven, a little apprehensive, knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Professor Melus’s voice rang out from within, and the office door opened at her command.

With trepidation, Xiven entered and saw Professor Melus seated behind her desk—dressed as she had been on the first day: a blue robe and a pointed wizard’s hat. But her face was far less kind than at the start of term; she looked extremely stern.

There was another professor in the room, sitting on the nearby sofa—a short, rotund middle-aged man with a thick mop of straw-colored hair and a rather sparse ginger-gold beard. At the moment, he was chatting amiably with Professor Melus.

As Xiven entered, Professor Melus fixed him with a severe look and said slowly, “Mr. Rozier, explain yourself. It’s only the second day of term and you dare to skip an entire afternoon of classes!”

Xiven guiltily rubbed his nose and murmured, “Professor, I didn’t mean to. I just… accidentally overslept…”

Professor Melus pressed her lips together and said sternly, “You need to learn a sense of time, Mr. Rozier. Do you realize Professor Isad, your Herbology teacher, was nearly driven mad with anger?”

‘And to think, after a whole lesson, I only now learn her name is Isad,’ Xiven thought to himself, unable to stop his inward grumbling about the not-so-impressive Herbology professor, even while being scolded by the Deputy Headmistress.

Sensing Xiven’s distraction, Professor Melus seemed about to continue her reprimand, when the rotund man on the sofa spoke up.

“Relax, Galadia. He’s a new student, after all—it’s normal if he hasn’t adjusted yet!” he said with a friendly smile, even casting Xiven a reassuring glance.

Professor Melus frowned and said to him, “Horace, he’s from your house. Technically, you should handle him. But I expect you to be fair in meting out punishment—at the very least, points must be deducted and detention is unavoidable!”

Upon hearing this, Xiven realized that the affable, stout man was none other than Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin House—the very person Sandrine had told him was reliable and could be approached for help. Xiven couldn’t help but take a closer look at the man.

“I understand, Galadia,” Professor Slughorn nodded, then smiled at Xiven, signaling for him to follow. He led Xiven out of the Deputy Headmistress’s office.

As they walked, Xiven glanced up at his Head of House and asked cautiously, “Professor, what will my punishment be?”

“Ah, punishment!” Professor Slughorn seemed as if he had only just remembered, stroking his chin in thought. “Let me see…”

“Well, how about this? Ten points from Slytherin, and you come to me for detention every Friday. How does that sound?” He winked at Xiven, smiling. “By the way, I run a little club—the Slug Club. Interested, Xiven?”

“Just between us, the Slug Club meets every Friday! If you join, the weekly gathering will count as your detention.”

‘Is that all?’ Xiven was left dumbfounded, sinking into deep self-doubt. The Slytherin prefect not only helped a new student bend the school rules, but the Head of House himself was leading the charge in exploiting loopholes? Just what sort of people made up this House…?

Only when Professor Slughorn, still smiling, walked him to the staircase leading from the entrance hall to the Slytherin common room did Xiven snap out of his daze. He quickly thanked the professor and firmly declined his offer to escort him all the way to the common room.

Returning to the dormitory, Xiven still felt it utterly absurd. He had broken school rules, skipped an afternoon of classes, and, as the Deputy Headmistress said, nearly drove a professor mad with anger. Yet the Head of House hadn’t blamed him in the slightest and even offered to personally escort him to the dormitory?

When he told his three roommates—who, truth be told, were more excited to see a spectacle than worried about him—Mobley and Gomez gaped in shock. Only Abraxas appeared unfazed.

“If it’s Professor Slughorn, that makes sense,” Abraxas said mysteriously. “Before term started, my father told me that if I ever ran into trouble, I should go to Professor Slughorn—he’d sort everything out.”

“Our Head of House is that nice?” asked Gomez.

Abraxas replied, “No, he probably only helps those like me and Xiven.”

Gomez was left speechless.

Xiven, unwilling to let Abraxas continue showing off, interrupted a little awkwardly, “So, what did I miss in this afternoon’s classes? Can you tell me?”

At that, he clearly saw all three roommates’ faces darken.

“Tuesday afternoons are a nightmare!” Mobley was the first to cry out. “Can you believe we spent an entire lesson handling dittany again?”

“And History of Magic—honestly, I felt like I was listening to gibberish!” Abraxas voiced his own complaints. “Why do we have to listen to a dead man teach?”

“A dead man?” Xiven asked in surprise, thinking that was rather disrespectful.

“You may not know this, but our History of Magic professor is a ghost,” Gomez explained.

Xiven was left speechless.

…