After the Charms class, everyone headed toward the Great Hall.
Lunch would start in ten minutes, and going early meant they could freely pick their favorite food.
Turning around the stone corridor, the nearby staircase creaked loudly as its long steps extended downward from the upper floors.
A group of senior students descended the staircase, all looking downcast, as if they were wilted eggplants.
"Hey, Matt!"
Michael raised his hand in greeting and asked, "What happened to you guys?"
Wade also recognized them as fifth-year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students.
The boy named Matt glanced at Michael and Wade beside him, walked over, and sighed before speaking.
"We just finished a Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
Michael immediately understood. "You guys got beaten up too? Professor Abigail sure doesn't hold back."
"I wish we'd just been beaten up!" Matt said gloomily.
The younger students all looked puzzled.
"Wade Grey?" A Gryffindor girl walking behind them shoved Matt aside and said to Wade, "I heard you got into a fight with the new professor yesterday?"
As soon as the words were out, the crowd flowing through the corridor paused briefly, and many people turned to look at Wade.
"No, I just got beaten up," Wade replied expressionlessly.
"Yeah, beaten up pretty badly. He just got out of the hospital wing this morning," Padma chimed in.
Hearing this, several fifth-year students let out disappointed sighs.
Matt explained to them, "We heard that Professor Abigail's classes feature real, full-on duels. We'd been looking forward to it all week."
"But when it was time for class, it wasn't any different from the others," Matt said with disappointment. "Tests, tests, endless tests!"
He grumbled in frustration.
Another Ravenclaw girl sighed helplessly. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it—this is our OWLs year."
The results of the OWLs exams determined the future of every young wizard. Unless they were as wealthy as the Malfoys or simply didn't care about their future, everyone took the exams extremely seriously.
Moreover, these exams rarely offered second chances. For most, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
In this year, they were much like the third-year high school students from Wade's previous life, spending the entire year memorizing, reviewing, training, completing piles of homework, and honing their knowledge and skills through countless tests in hopes of achieving a good result for college.
The pressure was immense, to say the least.
This made them perhaps the only students who, even after knowing the full picture, still looked forward to Professor Abigail's classes. Even getting beaten up seemed more appealing than doing test papers.
If they ended up getting thoroughly beaten, they might even have a valid excuse to skip a class or two—and the corresponding homework.
Unfortunately, in today's class, Professor Abigail did not use her unique teaching methods.
The group sighed in unison and continued trudging gloomily toward the Great Hall. Wade and his friends silently put some distance between themselves and these negativity-filled individuals.
"OWLs year is so terrifying!" Michael murmured. "I hope I won't end up like them three years from now."
Wade responded with words often repeated by high school teachers in his previous life:
"As long as you prepare regularly and take your studies seriously, there's no need to panic when the exams come. These students were too lax before; now they feel the time crunch and the pressure."
Michael scratched his head, and felt like he'd just been scolded too.
Padma walked over and whispered, "Do you think Professor Abigail's change in teaching style isn't just because they're in their OWLs year but also because of her argument with Madam Pomfrey yesterday?"
Michael paused, nodded, and said, "Could be—this afternoon Fred and the others have Defense Against the Dark Arts. We can ask them about their class and find out."
Listening to their conversation, Wade suddenly thought: What if Professor Abigail ends up running away after a few weeks because of the overwhelming workload?
After all, there was only one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the school, and they had a heavy weekly teaching schedule, with several back-to-back classes daily—easily five or six hours of teaching every day.
Quirrell had ulterior motives, and he was a "dual-core" version. Lockhart didn't teach anything serious and treated the classroom like his stage, probably wishing for even longer class times.
But with Abigail's high-energy teaching style, it would be normal if she couldn't sustain it for long.
…
After lunch, Wade bid farewell to Michael and the others and headed alone to the headmaster's office.
"Strawberry ice cream."
At the command, the stone gargoyle leapt aside, revealing an entrance. Wade ascended the spiral staircase. At the top, he noticed the oak door was half open.
"Honestly, Dumbledore, there's a serious problem with Professor Abigail's teaching style!"
Madam Pomfrey's indignant voice rang from above.
"Do you know how many students have been sent to the hospital wing these past two days? I just discharged a dozen, and in no time, the beds are full again!!"
Wade hadn't expected Madam Pomfrey to actually come and lodge a complaint. Wade had reached the top, so he had no choice but to wait at the door.
"I believe Professor Abigail is simply unaccustomed to the students' level," Dumbledore said gently. "She's used to facing far more brutal battles and dealing with rogue dark wizards all over the world."
"Once she evaluates the students' abilities and understands her responsibilities, I think her teaching methods will become more appropriate."
"She's like a lion that's just entered a new territory, wanting to hunt every kind of animal! But going so hard on second-year students is just too much!"
Madam Pomfrey wasn't convinced by Dumbledore's vague reassurances. She was so upset that she even issued a threat:
"If she doesn't learn to restrain herself, then I'll personally oversee every Defense Against the Dark Arts class from now on!"
"I don't think that will be necessary. I'll have a talk with her," Dumbledore said.
"Don't put it off—do it today!" Madam Pomfrey insisted firmly.
"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "However, Mr. Grey is already waiting outside for me. Why don't we see if Professor Abigail adjusts her approach in the meantime, and then discuss this further. How does that sound?"
Wade stepped aside as Madam Pomfrey emerged a moment later.
She was still dressed in her nurse-like uniform, carrying a faint scent of potions.
"Mr. Grey, are your injuries fully healed?"
"Yes, Madam," Wade replied with a slight bow. "Thank you for your care—the potion you used was very effective."
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