Chapter 135: Course Selection, and the Growing Three-Headed Dog

Unlike the relaxed and cheerful Christmas break, during the Easter break, the professors seemed to have piled up a century's worth of assignments all at once.

As a result, almost no one chose to go home for the holiday; everyone stayed at school.

Moreover, for second-year students, this Easter brought another important matter: they had to choose their third-year courses, which many regarded as a task requiring serious consideration.

Take Hermione, for example—she had been scribbling and crossing out on that parchment for two hours, unable to decide; every course she selected clashed with another.

"Just drop one course, and everything's solved," Ron pointed out the key issue, but Hermione ignored him.

Ron shrugged and turned back to his own parchment.

"Divination, Numerology, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies…"

"Strange, why isn't Potions on the list?" Harry asked. "I only want to drop Potions—even if I have to take five more courses, I don't care."

"Don't even think about it—you still have to keep all your original classes," Hermione said, leaning over to look at the other side. "Silven, what did you pick?"

Silven casually pushed his parchment toward her; it was already marked.

"Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes," Ron glanced and exclaimed, "Silven, how did you pick three courses? Did you make a mistake?"

"Professor McGonagall said we only need to choose two."

"It's a minimum of two," Silven corrected. "And Divination and Care of Magical Creatures are both very easy courses—even if you take both, you won't be tired."

"Easy courses…" Ron's eyes lit up. "Like Magical History?"

"Not that easy," Silven said.

The professor of Magical History was a ghost; in class, you could write other assignments, play chess, or even sleep—as long as you made no noise, you could do whatever you wanted.

But Ron no longer cared—he immediately marked Divination and Care of Magical Creatures.

He would take those two.

Harry thought for a moment and made the same choice as Ron.

Hermione, by contrast, simply selected every course.

"Are you mad?" Ron's voice rose sharply. "Fine, the others I can accept—but Muggle Studies? With all due respect, haven't you studied enough about them before term started?"

"But from a wizard's perspective, it's fascinating," Hermione said.

"Exactly," Percy, acting as advisor, nodded. "Wizards should have a comprehensive understanding of the non-magical world, especially if they intend to work closely with Muggles."

Only Hermione took this to heart.

Harry, though he suspected he'd likely find a job like that after graduation, already understood Muggles well enough—he didn't need to study them further. After all, his aunt and uncle were two standard Muggles.

How standard? Harry thought that if Muggle Studies had a textbook, the Dursleys' photo would make a perfect cover illustration.

Silven didn't care—he didn't need to find another job anyway.

And while it was said that wizards should gain a thorough understanding of the non-magical world, in reality, Hogwarts' Muggle Studies professor understood nothing.

Professor Kariidi Bubaji, like Mr. Weasley, was merely a Muggle enthusiast. Her knowledge of Muggles was partly true, the rest pure fantasy.

But unlike Mr. Weasley, Professor Bubaji genuinely admired Muggle technology and knowledge, never trying to turn them into magical products.

She was also willing to learn Muggle-world knowledge—she reportedly held graduation certificates from three of Britain's most famous universities.

She had even published articles in The Daily Prophet, opposing pure-blood supremacy and emphasizing that Muggle-born wizards were equally excellent.

Professor Bubaji's professional ability might not match Professor McGonagall's or Professor Flitwick's, but she was still the most suitable candidate.

Because she truly understood the Muggle world from a wizard's perspective—not merely listing what Muggles had or how to use those things…

Bubaji thought that was the job of a tour guide.

Of course, this still didn't change the fact that Muggle Studies was the course with the fewest enrollees, ranking just above Ancient Runes.

It was also the first course Silven eliminated.

After lunch, Silven visited Hagrid again, planning to stock up on suitable materials during the Easter break.

Hagrid initially didn't want to take Silven back into the Forbidden Forest—the number of students staying on campus during Easter was too high; it felt no different from term time, unlike Christmas, when the whole castle was empty.

Only when Silven mentioned they could stop by to see Fluffy did Hagrid agree.

The three-headed dog had strong regenerative abilities—his beard hairs, plucked last time, had already grown back. Silven didn't hesitate; while Hagrid wasn't looking, he plucked three more.

Fluffy didn't mind—he was still dreaming of another delicious meal, and treated Silven with great friendliness.

After all, pulling out a few beard hairs meant nothing to a three-headed dog with thick, tough skin.

"Hagrid, I feel like Fluffy has grown another size," Silven asked, looking up.

"Normal," Hagrid said. "Fluffy is two years old now—he's entered his growth phase. Lately, his appetite has increased dramatically. The centaurs keep coming to me, saying Fluffy stole their prey."

"As if the Forbidden Forest belonged to them…"

Hagrid disliked centaurs—he believed the Forbidden Forest had been Hogwarts' property since its founding a thousand years ago.

The centaurs' bandit-like behavior disgusted him, so he didn't care whether Fluffy stole their prey or not.

"Growth phase…" Silven looked up at the three-headed dog, now nearly eighteen feet tall, and clicked his tongue… So it could still grow more?

Twenty feet? Thirty feet? It couldn't possibly grow as tall as a dragon—fifty feet? That would be terrifying.

Silven patted Fluffy's chin and casually tugged off another beard hair.

"Does he stay in the Forbidden Forest all the time?"

"Of course."

"But is there enough food around here for him?" Silven asked.

"Don't worry," Hagrid said. "The Forbidden Forest has plenty of food. I also bring him meat regularly."

"But this kennel seems too small now," Hagrid sighed suddenly. "He's growing less fond of coming home—I have to call him back every time I bring food."

"Can Fluffy hear you when you call him?"

"Sometimes," Hagrid said. "But if he wanders too far, I have to use a whistle."

"A whistle?" Silven looked over curiously.

"This one," Hagrid pulled out a crude stone whistle from his pocket—clearly handmade by himself.

"When Hagrid was young, I often sang to lull him to sleep; he loved music, so I made this whistle."

"But he doesn't like it anymore—he won't fall asleep when he hears music now," Hagrid said, looking disappointed. "Still, he recognizes the whistle—he comes back when he hears the sound."

Silven smiled awkwardly and said nothing more.

The fact that Hagrid no longer slept at the sound of music was probably largely his doing, but then again, it had also eliminated one of Hagrid's weaknesses.

After lingering a while longer and feeding Hagrid all the moose meat he had brought, Hagrid led Silven back.

"Hagrid, have you seen any of the other professors lately?" Silven asked casually as they walked along the forest path.

"Professor Sprout came by yesterday," Hagrid said. "She was collecting plants and gathering mooncalves' droppings for fertilizer."

"What about the other professors?" Silven continued. "For example, Professor McGonagall."

"No, not her," Hagrid shook his head without hesitation. "Actually, apart from Professor Sprout and Professor Snape, the other professors rarely come to the Forbidden Forest. Why? Are you looking for her?"

"No, I was just curious," Silven said, a little disappointed.

He had hoped to find that bottle through Hagrid—but it seemed Professor McGonagall already knew how close he and Hagrid were, and had denied him that chance.

(End of Chapter)