The History of Magic classroom, located in one of the castle's colder towers, was dim and dusty, with long narrow windows that let in just enough gray morning light to make everyone feel vaguely miserable.
Rows of aged desks faced a chalkboard no one had seen used in decades. Ancient portraits hung crookedly along the walls—wizards long since dead, now slumbering in their frames.
The first-year Gryffindors sat bunched in the front rows, books open to Chapter Three: "Goblin Rebellions of the Fourteenth Century." The class, however, had yet to begin in any traditional sense.
At the front of the classroom hovered Professor Binns—a translucent, silvery figure in old robes and horn-rimmed glasses perched just above his ghostly nose. He floated inches above the ground, drifting gently like a feather caught in a breeze.
"…and in the year 1388, Emeric the Evil was defeated in a duel by Egbert the Egregious," Binns droned, voice so dull it seemed designed to hypnotize stone.
Hermione sat upright, quill already scribbling rapidly in her notes.
Neville, for his part, was beaming with anticipation. His grandmother had always spoken about how important magical history was, and he was eager to prove he could succeed in something beyond fumbling his spells.
"Egbert's wand was oak, ten inches, dragon heartstring core," Binns continued without pause, "and it is said that he never lost a duel except one with a Hungarian warlock over a matter of goblin taxation. The duel lasted three days, and was—"
A loud snore interrupted the silence.
Harry turned slowly.
Inosuke was sprawled across two desks in the back, arms folded behind his head, legs sticking off the sides, and the boar mask tilted just enough to reveal a mouth wide open in slumber.
"He's asleep?" Ron whispered.
"He was asleep the moment we walked in," Harry whispered back.
"I thought he was dead at first," Seamus added.
Hermione glanced back and huffed. "Honestly! How can he sleep through this? This is important history!"
"Important?" Ron murmured. "I'm pretty sure I've had more exciting dreams about wallpaper."
Professor Binns paid no attention to the snoring. In fact, it was unclear whether he even noticed students at all. His lecture continued at the same steady drone:
"…which brings us to the 1612 Goblin Rebellion, headquartered at the inn in Hogsmeade. Not to be confused with the 1474 Rebellion, which began after a dispute over wand possession laws…"
Neville raised his hand politely.
Professor Binns floated straight through a desk without noticing.
Neville hesitated. "Professor?"
Still nothing.
Hermione raised her hand, too. "Professor Binns?"
"Yes, Miss Granger," he replied, not turning or stopping.
"Could you explain the difference between the 1474 and 1612 Goblin Rebellions again?"
Binns blinked once—his only visible sign of life.
"The 1474 rebellion," he recited, "began in protest of wand possession laws, particularly Article 7, which denied goblins the right to bear enchanted objects…"
As the class went on, the sound of Inosuke's light snoring mixed with Binns' monotone created a strangely rhythmic lull.
Until suddenly—
Inosuke started floating.
At first, it was subtle—his limbs slack and body limp, he rose just an inch or two above the desks. At first, Harry thought he was imagining it. But then the boar-masked boy drifted higher, his arms still folded behind his head, snoring softly as if lounging in a hammock rather than levitating inexplicably three feet above ground.
Ron nudged Harry. "Is… is that supposed to happen?"
Harry blinked. "No. Definitely not."
The rest of the class started to notice.
Neville's eyes widened, and he leaned back, clutching his parchment like a shield. "Is he doing that on purpose?"
Hermione stopped writing mid-sentence, glanced upward, and then straightened. "That's a Levitation Charm—but no one cast it!"
Seamus peered up, confused. "Maybe he's sleep-spelling?"
"I don't think he can even spell awake," Ron whispered.
Above them, Inosuke's body rotated gently, as if caught in a slow, lazy current. He was now completely horizontal, snoring blissfully, his boar mask tilted just enough to let a small line of drool trail into the air beneath him.
Professor Binns, meanwhile, remained utterly unfazed.
"…and of course, goblin uprisings were not exclusive to Britain," he droned, drifting through his own podium. "A minor rebellion occurred in the Austrian Alps, led by Gornuk the Belligerent in 1723. It was, like many, sparked by restrictions against goblin smithing…"
The floating boy began to spin.
Slowly at first—like a gently turning leaf caught in the breeze—but then with increasing speed.
One full rotation.
Then another.
By the third, his arms drooped outward, limp as overcooked noodles, and his legs twitched slightly. The boar mask remained affixed to his head like some ancient, unmoved warrior helm.
"Is he... spinning?" Dean Thomas asked.
"Yes," Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"Is he still asleep?" Parvati asked.
"Yes," Harry answered, stunned.
"No human being can sleep through that!" Ron said.
"Clearly you've never seen Inosuke nap," Harry replied.
Inosuke's rotation had now picked up momentum—he spun once every two seconds, like a slow-motion top. A faint whirring sound now filled the room. He began to tilt at an angle, bobbing in mid-air like an off-balance balloon. With every full circle, the drool now flung outward like a lazy sprinkler.
Suddenly, the spinning body started to float higher.
"Oh no," Hermione whispered.
Seamus covered his mouth to keep from laughing. "He's a human fidget spinner!"
Inosuke rose steadily, crossing the room like a ghostly boar-shaped moon orbiting a very confused planet.
One of the portraits on the wall—a stuffy-looking wizard with a monocle—opened his eyes and muttered, "What in Merlin's underpants is that?"
The class leaned back in unison as Inosuke drifted directly over them, legs pointed skyward now, spinning continuously like a carousel ride from some haunted amusement park.
He passed over Ron's head with a low groaning snore.
Fred Weasley would've called it majestic. George might have called it art.
But no one was laughing now—because Inosuke was drifting directly toward the narrow arched window near the back of the classroom.
"Oh no," Neville gasped. "Not the window!"
"Grab him!" Seamus whispered.
"I'm not touching that!" Dean said.
But none of them moved fast enough.
With a gentle whoosh, Inosuke floated closer to the open pane—still spinning, now completely upside down.
Harry stood. "Professor Binns! We need to—"
"—and following the Treaty of Tarnhelm," Binns continued, as though nothing at all had happened, "it was agreed that goblin-produced silver would no longer be used for official Ministry currency…"
"Inosuke's floating out the window!!" Hermione cried.
No response.
"I don't think he can hear us," Ron said, panicked. "Or care."
"Let me try!" Neville said, running to the window. "Grab his leg!"
But it was too late.
With a low hum and one final pirouette, Inosuke passed through the window frame, headfirst.
There was a moment of pure silence.
Then—
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"
His scream echoed across the courtyard.
Everyone scrambled toward the window.
From five stories up, they watched as the spinning Inosuke dropped like a flying boar comet, spiraling through the air with a mixture of dramatic flair and sheer lunacy.
And then—
THUD.
He landed squarely in a patch of bushes outside the base of the tower.
The class gasped.
Neville covered his face. "Oh no…"
"He's dead," Dean whispered.
"Call Madam Pomfrey!" Parvati yelped.
But then, through the window came the familiar, triumphant war cry:
"AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Everyone leaned farther out the window.
Inosuke stood—somehow unscathed—branches sticking from his shoulders, dirt in his boar head, twigs tangled in his scarf. A nearby owl, startled out of its perch, flew directly into a tree and collapsed.
"I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE SKY!" he bellowed.
Students below stared, stunned.
Back in the classroom, the students turned toward Professor Binns.
Binns didn't even blink. "And thus, the Edict of Ironskull was passed, ending the Goblin War of 1764…"
Hermione just stared at the ghost professor, slack-jawed. "He's not even trying to notice."
Ron dropped his head on the desk. "I don't know what I expected anymore."
Outside, Inosuke marched back toward the front doors, shouting at the wind. "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT, SKY BEAST?! I'VE FALLEN HARDER OFF A WILD BOAR MID-GALLOP!"
When the bell rang moments later, signaling the end of class, the Gryffindors exited slowly, all peeking out the window or whispering about what they'd just witnessed.
_____________
The Great Hall was still quiet when the Gryffindor first-years arrived for lunch, the lingering clatter of cutlery and low student chatter filling the long chamber. Plates were already half-filled with shepherd's pie, roast chicken, and baskets of warm bread, but something was… off.
Namely, the sight of three older students writhing on the floor near the Gryffindor table.
Fred and George Weasley, along with Lee Jordan, lay sprawled on their backs, clutching their sides like they'd been hit with a dozen Tickling Charms. Fred's legs kicked uselessly in the air. George was half-curled around a pumpkin pasty, tears streaming down his face. And Lee? He was choking between hysterical gasps, red-faced and drooling, as if someone had slipped him a Jelly-Legs Jinx and a Cheering Charm at once.
They were howling with laughter—wheezing, snorting, and occasionally slapping the floor for mercy.
Fred pointed weakly toward the doors as the first-years entered. "He—he SPUN! Like—like some kind of—"
"—whirling hog-ballerina—" Lee wheezed.
"—AND THEN THE WINDOW—!" George howled, voice cracking as he clutched at his ribs. "HE ACTUALLY FLEW OUT THE BLOODY TOWER WINDOW!!"
Saliva dribbled down his chin. Fred wheezed again. "That snore—when he passed over Ron's head—I thought I was going to explode!"
Every student in the hall turned to look.
Even Professor McGonagall paused with her teacup midway to her mouth, eyebrows arched in what could only be described as dignified horror.
Professor Flitwick peeked over the rim of his chair. "Er… are they dying?"
"They're just reacting to Inosuke," Hermione said with a long sigh as she set her bag down.
"Again?" said Percy from across the table, nose wrinkled.
Fred flopped over and slapped the stone floor. "Sky Beast! He called the wind a sky beast! I can't—I CAN'T—I'M GONNA DIE—"
Lee rolled toward the wall, helpless. "I swear he broke the window like a human Quaffle!"
A few Ravenclaws nearby giggled nervously.
Ron dumped his bag on the bench and slumped beside Harry. "They've been like this since we left class. I think they actually snuck up to the tower just to watch."
"They hid under a bench in the room," Harry confirmed.
"No regrets!" Fred groaned, thumping his chest. "My soul left my body when he spun out that window."
"Do we—do we call Madam Pomfrey?" Neville asked, concerned as George gasped for air.
"No need," Hermione said, grabbing some bread. "This is just what happens when Inosuke… exists."
At the staff table, Professor Sprout leaned toward Dumbledore. "Should we be concerned?"
Dumbledore, sipping his tea calmly, smiled. "No. This is… quite possibly the best education they'll ever receive."
A/N:
I swear, I almost died laughing while writing this chapter. 😂 Now hit me with that Power Stone, baby! 💥