As the two gradually moved away from the Forbidden Forest, Hermione—who had been on edge the whole time—finally breathed a sigh of relief.
There's nothing scarier for a straight-A student than losing house points.
Thanks to the "tireless efforts" of Harry and Ron, Gryffindor was now hanging out at the bottom of the scoreboard.
Ravenclaw and Slytherin were neck and neck for first place.
These two houses had been the fiercest rivals for the House Cup in recent years—though Slytherin always ended up taking the win.
By the time the two made it back to the Great Hall, it was almost time for their evening History of Magic class, taught by a ghost who had supposedly lived for over a thousand years.
Lucas walked in with high hopes—but within five minutes, he was completely knocked out cold. Hermione, sitting next to him, managed to hold on a little longer.
Her little head kept nodding, bobbing in the air like a duck pecking at grain.
In the end, even the queen of academics couldn't resist the sleep-inducing power of a thousand-year-old ghost. Her head eventually slumped over onto Lucas's shoulder, who was already face-down on the desk.
Around them, not a single student was spared from the drowsiness—and for the record, Hermione was the last one to crash.
"That's very rude!"
The ghost of Professor Cuthbert Binns, gray and translucent, scowled at the rows of knocked-out students.
He was the only ghost professor at Hogwarts.
According to the other ghosts, Binns had once forgotten to bring his body to class and ended up dying without realizing it. But that minor detail didn't get in the way of his passion for teaching.
So for over a thousand years, the History of Magic class had been taught by the same old ghost.
Even though every student in the room was fast asleep, he kept droning on in his flat, sleep-inducing tone—rambling about goblin rebellions and ancient magical history like nothing had happened.
When class was finally over, some students stumbled out yawning, while others had to sit for a minute because their legs had gone numb.
"Cuthbert Binns' lectures are still easy to understand, though," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes as she packed up the notes she'd managed to take during the first half of class.
As for what came after that? Sorry, Miss Hermione had already passed out.
"I think he should spice things up with some cool legends to keep us awake—like the Resurrection Stone, or the Chamber of Secrets," Lucas said, still a bit drowsy himself, especially since it was a nighttime class.
"My subject is the history of magic. I deal in facts, not fairy tales,"
Binns said coldly as he floated past them.
"And as for the so-called Chamber of Secrets—it does exist, but it was built by Salazar Slytherin himself. Nothing mysterious about it."
Lucas watched Binns drift away and scratched his nose. He knew exactly what was in that chamber—he'd gone exploring there just last night and picked up a new psychic pet.
After all, the Basilisk wasn't that mysterious to him anymore.
"Yeah, Cuthbert Binns is kind of a snoozefest," Hermione agreed with a nod.
Once they stepped outside the classroom, it was time to split.
One common room was up on the eighth floor, the other in the dungeon—so they parted ways at the stairs.
Hermione's figure slowly climbed the shifting staircase and disappeared as the steps shifted.
Lucas headed down toward the Slytherin common room.
Bathed in green light from the underwater windows, the fire in the fireplace flickered quietly. A group of Slytherin students had gathered in the lounge, laughing and chatting.
Lucas glanced over and saw Malfoy among them.
One side of the room was all pure-bloods. The other side? Mixed-bloods. Clearly two camps had formed.
Lucas yawned and headed for his dorm. He wasn't in the mood for politics.
After all, even Slytherin had its decent folks.
Just as he was about to crash for the night, Malfoy strolled in with a grin plastered on his face.
Clearly, he'd enjoyed chatting with people who shared his worldviews.
"You didn't go mess with Harry?" Lucas asked, already knowing the answer.
"Please, I've already got someone handling that. It's gonna be hilarious," Malfoy said smugly, remembering the juicy bit he'd just passed along to Filch.
"Keep it down. You're breaking my reading flow."
Lucas gave him a look from behind his book.
The grin instantly froze on Malfoy's face. His mouth twitched slightly.
For some reason, being around Lucas always gave him a weird sense of dread.
But his love of gaming helped him power through it.
"Why won't this game console turn on?"
"It's dead."
"Then what do we do?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow when Malfoy pulled out the black-screened console.
"Then don't play."
"No way, my house isn't even finished yet!" Malfoy said, frustrated. "How much is this thing? I'll buy it off you!"
"Recharge it for me too!"
Being the wealthy pure-blood noble he was, Malfoy had his own stash of spending money—and a lot of it.
"Forget it. I'll give it to you. Let's say it's a gift—what are friends for?"
With that, Lucas picked up his wand and pointed it at the game console.
Malfoy flinched and jumped back.
A golden spark crackled from the tip of the wand, curling around the console like electric vines.
A few seconds later, the red battery light flicked to green.
Lucas had tested this out on a few consoles already—some got fried, but now he had it down.
"You're a legend!"
Malfoy said with stars in his eyes, dashing off to his bed with the console in hand.
Gaming addict.
The words popped into Lucas's head.
All in all, it was a good night for everyone—
Except for Harry, Ron, and their poor roommate, who were being hunted down by Filch like fugitives.