“Wait a moment, Mr. Richter!”

Just as he was about to step out, Professor McGonagall called out to Dawn and asked, “So, how was it? Did the meeting help you?”

“Absolutely!”

Dawn smiled and nodded firmly.

“It helped a lot!”

“Did it?” McGonagall looked slightly surprised at his certainty.

She simply assumed that the two theories discussed had broadened his perspective and didn’t press further. Instead, she reminded him:

“Before you attempt the Animagus transformation, be sure to inform me. There are some preparations I can assist you with in advance.”

Dawn blinked.

He had only intended to study the Animagus potion—he never planned on actually drinking it.

But after a brief pause, he decided not to explain further.

He figured he could just say he failed the preliminary steps when the time came.

That would be the least troublesome way.

….

It was now the second week of term.

The rain continued to fall.

It seemed like the sky had been holding it back for a long time. Though the downpour had lessened to a steady drizzle, it still hadn’t stopped.

“Oh, this damn weather! I hope it clears up by Saturday—we’ve got a Quidditch match, you know.”

“Eh, I don’t mind. Playing in the wind and rain feels kind of epic, doesn’t it? Like a real hero!”

A few Quidditch players were jogging and chatting after their training session, unfazed by the rain.

But at the castle entrance, they were intercepted by a grumpy Filch, who insisted they clean themselves up before stepping inside.

Groans echoed through the rain.

At Hogwarts, stories were always unfolding in the background.

Dawn glanced over the new timetable and found that his course load had increased significantly compared to the previous week.

Perhaps it was due to the initial adjustment period, but now all the main subjects had doubled to two classes per week.

….

In the very first Potions class on Monday, Dawn lost a hefty fifty house points—courtesy of Snape.

But this time, there was no one to blame but himself.

He had done something incredibly foolish—he forgot to turn in last week’s homework.

Even Snape, normally unflappable, looked visibly stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected any student to be bold—or careless—enough to forget an assignment in his class.

But Dawn truly hadn’t done it on purpose.

In fact, he hadn’t done any of the homework—not for Potions, nor for History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, or Herbology.

Fortunately, the other assignments still had time for make-up.

During Charms class, Professor Flitwick, who had likely heard the news from Snape, checked Dawn’s spellwork and, showing unusual mercy, allowed him to finish the written work during the lesson.

Ron was rather envious.

He had managed to successfully cast the Levitation Charm once on Sunday and assumed he had it mastered.

But during class, he completely failed, embarrassing himself in front of everyone. To make things worse, he hadn’t done the homework either and lost two house points. He had to return to his seat under Hermione’s furious glare.

Not that he was alone in his struggles.

Once it was clear that nearly half the students still hadn’t mastered the Levitation Charm, Professor Flitwick decided to skip teaching new spells and used the entire period for more practice.

This didn’t surprise Dawn.

He had read the entire first-year Charms textbook, and it only contained eight spells in total. With so few spells and so much time, the class was clearly designed for a relaxed pace.

For those who had mastered the basics, Flitwick introduced more advanced techniques—such as levitating multiple objects simultaneously.

…

Next came Herbology.

Professor Sprout had shifted focus from memorizing fertilizer formulas to in-depth study of individual plants.

Their first subject: the Bouncing Bulb.

It was an aggressive plant that could leap and whip at anyone who got too close.

As expected, the class descended into chaos. The lesson felt more like a physical education class than a herbology session.

Neville, while ducking frantically, was struck square in the chest by a Bouncing Bulb and lay groaning on the floor for some time before managing to stand.

Professor Sprout was baffled.

After all, the first topic in Defense Against the Dark Arts should have covered handling such magical plants.

But the students’ performance was simply appalling.

With no better option, Sprout ended up using half the class to teach them a Freezing Charm to subdue the plants.

“No wonder Hogwarts’ ranking drops every year! This can’t continue!” she exclaimed after class, storming off to find Dumbledore.

She was genuinely concerned—what if after seven years of study, students couldn’t even cast a Shield Charm? That would be beyond irresponsible!

Could Professor Sprout’s indignation change the declining quality of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?

Dawn highly doubted it.

Because in the very next lesson, Quirrell was still standing at the front, pale and hollow-eyed, monotonously reading from the textbook.

But Dawn had come to terms with it.

It was fine. As long as the Dark Lord didn’t show up, he’d be generous enough to give this subject a passing grade.

Still—

Although Quirrell’s teaching was a disaster, there was another professor who could match him in mediocrity.

Professor Binns of History of Magic.

The poor ghost who had died on the job was now lecturing about the wizard-goblin wars. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared the class.

In the droning lecture, Dawn noticed Hermione frequently raising her hand to ask questions about peaceful coexistence between wizards and goblins.

Clearly, her future creation of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare had roots going way back.

What Dawn didn’t realize was that he himself had unknowingly played a role in influencing her thoughts.

Lastly came Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class.

It was quite similar to Charms. Nothing particularly new was taught—just a switch from turning matchsticks into needles to turning them into teapots.

And perhaps because McGonagall now had a clearer understanding of Dawn’s true abilities, she only awarded him a token single point after he completed the task flawlessly.

…..

And so, the days passed.

Compared to the hectic first week, this one was far more relaxed for Dawn.

Now that he had grasped the key to permanent transformation, he no longer had to run around like a headless chicken in search of answers.

With a clear direction, moving forward became much easier.

Once the Animagus potion was ready, he could ignore all the vague theories and focus entirely on studying its relationship with natural magic.

In the meantime, he could study runes systematically.

Dawn genuinely enjoyed this quiet style of learning. It reminded him of how he had read books alone at home since he was six.

And unlike home, he now had the opportunity to sneak into upper-year rune classes once he figured out their schedules.

….

Amid these peaceful days, Friday arrived.

It should have been just another ordinary day.

But something unexpected changed everything.

The ancient copy of [The Tales of Beedle the Bard]—which he had found in the Room of Requirement—was finally restored enough to be read.

Three or four days ahead of schedule.

Perhaps it was due to Dawn’s growing magical power, or maybe it was because he had recently cast restoration charms more frequently.

Either way—

It was now readable.

________________

Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-

patreon.com/BloodAncestor

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep