Chapter 179. Measures and Electives
Very soon, the petrified Hufflepuff student was transferred to the hospital wing—and by the very next day, the news had spread far and wide. After a single day of whispers, it seemed everyone knew.
On the morning of the third day, all the students arrived early at the Great Hall.
Because, barring surprises, Dumbledore would certainly address the recent petrification incidents at Hogwarts today.
It might be an earlier curfew, it might be classes suspended, or it might be worse—
Who could say?
The Hall was already full, yet it was very quiet; only the occasional low murmur and the clink of cutlery against plates broke the hush.
Even Ron, usually enthusiastic about food, set down his utensils without thinking.
The usually lively Hall was shrouded in a cloud of oppressive gloom.
On the staff dais, Adrian Wesson watched the expressions of every student and professor, hoping to find some clue.
Professor McGonagall's face was taut, Professor Snape looked sullen, and Professor Flitwick wore a worried look.
Oh, and Lockhart—he seemed to be staring blankly at the ceiling.
In short, you couldn't tell who the culprit was from expressions alone.
At last, the great doors swung open.
Every gaze snapped to the entrance—Dumbledore walked in at an unhurried pace.
"I imagine you are all aware of what has happened recently," Dumbledore said as he reached the front. His voice carried clearly across the room. "In light of these events, I have several announcements to make."
By now Wesson already knew what Dumbledore was going to say; after all, it had been discussed with the professors.
"In the past little while, several people have been attacked by an unknown creature. They are not in danger for the moment; as soon as Professor Sprout's large crop of Mandrakes matures, we will be able to restore them," Dumbledore said heavily. "Nonetheless, we must take certain measures to prevent such incidents from happening again."
In truth, after all the rumours, the students had basically decided that the "unknown creature" Dumbledore mentioned was the legendary Basilisk.
Of course, it still wasn't one hundred per cent certain.
After all, no one had truly seen it.
Oh, well—Justin had, but he'd already been petrified at the time and probably hadn't seen clearly.
No sooner had Dumbledore finished speaking than the students below began whispering at once.
Ron ignored the sausages grown cold on his plate and muttered to Harry and Hermione, "What do you reckon happens next? Are we going to be sent off early for the holidays? It's nearly Easter."
Harry frowned, glanced towards Wesson, and answered, "Worst case, they might suspend classes."
"Suspend classes!?" Hermione squeaked, drawing a few looks from nearby students.
She quickly lowered her voice, though the urgency remained. "What about our end-of-year exams?"
"Oh," Ron rolled his eyes, "at a time like this you're still worried about exams?"
"They're important!"
"Silence!"
Dumbledore's resonant voice rang from the front. "Please listen. From today, all students must return to their common rooms before six o'clock. No student is permitted to leave after that.
"In addition, every class will be accompanied by a member of staff. All Quidditch practices and matches are postponed. Lastly, Astronomy lessons at night will be moved to daytime. That is all."
When Dumbledore finished, the students started chirping again.
Honestly, this wasn't so bad.
At least they could still attend lessons.
The only pity was that Quidditch practices and matches were postponed.
Some people had quite a lot to say about that.
Harry, for instance—Quidditch was one of his few passions.
At the Gryffindor table, Wood grumbled to everyone, "I can't believe it! How can they do this? How can they cancel Quidditch? Are we going to be attacked while we're flying? What danger is there fifty feet in the air?"
However, whatever anyone said, Dumbledore's orders had been given; the cancellation of Quidditch was final.
On the staff dais, everyone appeared calm.
They already knew.
Only Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, looked rather troubled.
There was no helping it—her subject had been moved to the daytime.
She couldn't help worrying; you couldn't see the stars by day—there were spells that could help, of course, but they weren't a long-term solution.
After Dumbledore's orders came down, the students struggled to adjust to the new requirements.
All along, Hogwarts could be called a free place.
Magic was freedom, after all; restraints only curbed students' creativity.
But now, their every move had been shackled.
For the most part, even in their free time, students could only choose to stay in their common rooms and the library, or spend time wherever people gathered in crowds.
Soon it was the Easter holidays.
This was a two-week break spent at Hogwarts.
Second-years had to decide their third-year electives during this holiday.
Everyone was at their wits' end.
Choosing electives felt like opening a blind box; they hadn't taken these classes—how were they supposed to know what to pick?
They could only judge by asking around.
Take Neville, for example—Harry noticed he'd received a lot of letters from home, all filled with his relatives' advice.
Harry suddenly felt a bit envious.
As for him, on Professor Wesson's recommendation he had already decided on Care of Magical Creatures and Study of Ancient Runes.
In the end, though, Harry also ticked Divination—because Ron chose it.
"Are you really going to take that?" Harry asked, puzzled. "I heard Professor Wesson say Divination takes a natural gift, and most people don't have the Sight."
Ron looked unconvinced. "How do you know I don't? Maybe I've got a Seer somewhere among my ancestors."
"Stop dreaming." Hermione had already filled in her form in one go. "Face reality. Abandon illusions."
"You picked this one too?" Ron craned over Hermione's form, startled. "You ticked all of them!"
Hermione tilted her chin proudly.
"You won't have the time," Harry reminded her. "That'll be a big problem."
"Don't worry," Hermione said with a mysterious smile. "Professor McGonagall told me not to worry about the timetable."
Seeing that, Harry didn't press further.
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