Chapter 93: Professor Binns' Glorious Resume
Peeves was an especially annoying presence—particularly for first-year students. He was arguably more troublesome than locked doors or trap-filled staircases.
He'd drop a wastebasket on your head, yank the carpet from beneath your feet, pelt you with chalk, or sneak up behind you, grab your nose, and scream, "Got your nose!"
Fortunately, Harry and his group had never experienced any of these antics. They had only heard about Peeves' mischief through the Weasley twins' vivid storytelling.
And the reason? Alexander Smith.
Peeves, perhaps without realizing it himself, subconsciously avoided Alexander's presence. Since Alexander often hung around Harry and the others, this had a ripple effect—making them the only group of first-years across all four houses who hadn't been pranked by Peeves.
This mysterious avoidance added to Harry's already growing reputation as The Boy Who Lived. Everyone assumed Peeves avoided Harry out of fear of his supposed magical might—after all, this was the same boy who had survived Voldemort's curse as a baby.
Even Peeves himself, unaware of the real reason, started to believe the legend.
But the truth lay in two key factors.
First, Alexander had reached Level 4 of the Phoenix Incarnation. At this level, he no longer needed external fire to activate it. Just the thought of becoming a phoenix was enough. His actual body could hide within the consciousness-born phoenix form.
Phoenix magic was one of the noblest and most powerful magical energies in existence. It was no surprise that a ghost like Peeves instinctively avoided such a presence.
Second, the core of Smith's Castle—the seat of the Main God—was a being akin to Peeves, but far stronger. It had been refined and subdued by Alexander. In terms of cultivation novels, this Main God was essentially Alexander's second soul.
How could Peeves not flee in fear?
This was why even now, Ravenclaw's first-years still walked to and from classes in tight-knit groups.
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After breakfast, Ron was overjoyed to learn he'd be getting a new wand. Neville excitedly took the lead, forgetting that he neither knew the way nor could read a map.
By 9:00 AM, it was time for Ravenclaw's first class—History of Magic.
Some upperclassmen had warned them: this class was perfect for catching up on sleep. But Harry and his friends, still filled with curiosity and anticipation, arrived early to the second-floor classroom in Hogwarts Castle, eager to meet the school's only ghost professor.
"Have you read Hogwarts: A History?" Lisa Dupin asked excitedly. "It says Professor Binns has been here since the school was founded!"
"He died while sleeping in the staff lounge and didn't even realize there was a fire in the middle of the night," she continued.
"The next morning, he just got up and went to class—completely forgetting to bring his body along," Terry Boot added, sharing the latest gossip passed down from students in other houses.
"Apparently, he was already so old back then that he didn't even realize he'd died."
"Professor Binns was once praised by Salazar Slytherin himself for his sharp mind and clarity of thought," Hermione recited from memory. "That's why he was appointed Hogwarts' History of Magic professor in the first place."
She continued, quoting from A History of Hogwarts:
> "As lunch approached, the students reluctantly left Professor Binns' class. They were excited, having experienced the magic of magic itself. Professor Binns' lessons filled children with boundless imagination about the wizarding world."
"George and Fred say this is the best class for a nap," Ron grumbled. "Apparently, he just drones on without even remembering students' names and doesn't care if people sleep during his lectures."
"But they always say things to trick me, so I'm not sure," he added suspiciously.
Hermione frowned, clearly trusting the book over Ron's twin brothers. "The book wouldn't lie."
At 9 o'clock sharp, in front of their expectant eyes, a pearly-white, translucent figure floated out of the blackboard, notebook in hand.
Professor Binns greeted them in a dry monotone and launched straight into the topic of the day—Famous Figures in Wizarding History.
Among the many discussed, two stood out in their eccentricity: the sinister Merick and the peculiar Ulric.
Ron finally realized that his brothers hadn't been lying this time. But before he could even enjoy the revelation, Binns' slow, wheezing voice lulled him into a sleepy haze.
Professor Binns sounded like an ancient vacuum cleaner humming in the background. Drowsiness settled over the room. Occasionally, someone would jerk awake, scribble down a date or name, and then slump again.
Even Hermione found herself zoning out now and then.
Alexander, more prepared than the rest, had brought a magical notebook that recorded Binns' voice and transcribed it into text. Using it as a pillow, he drifted peacefully into a nap.
Before they knew it, two hours had passed. It was 11 AM.
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"I can't believe he really lectures like that," Hermione pouted.
"But it was a really comfy nap," Ron admitted, yawning.
"He's probably just been teaching for too long," Harry offered. "Hogwarts has been around for over a thousand years."
"Didn't you notice?" Alexander sat up, rubbing his head. "His lectures are actually detailed and informative. Other than being a bit long-winded and sleep-inducing, there's nothing wrong with them."
He handed his transcription notebook to Hermione.
"Oh wow! I didn't realize I remembered some of it wrong," Hermione gasped. Her eyes lit up, revealing her usual enthusiasm for learning.
"Alexander, could I borrow that?" Ron asked quickly.
Harry nodded in agreement.
Alexander figured the History of Magic class was designed this way on purpose—scheduled in the morning when students had the most willpower. Perhaps the headmaster knew that fighting sleep while taking notes was a subtle form of training.
After all, in history, it was the review that mattered most—just highlight the key points and revise later.
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As the noisy group arrived at the Great Hall and sat at the Ravenclaw table, Seamus Finnigan turned around from the Gryffindor table to complain loudly about Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
He recommended plugging your nose during class—it might help.
"And I never want to eat garlic again," he added bitterly.
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