"Snore… snore…"
Though it was already September, the lingering heat still clung to the air. Warm sunlight poured through the three stained-glass windows of the History of Magic classroom, casting dazzling reflections across the old, worn desks—so bright they made everyone's eyes water.
In the stuffy classroom, snores echoed intermittently. Two, in particular, were thunderous.
"I just don't get it," Draco muttered, lifting his head off the desk. "How are those two still asleep? They've been napping all day!"
He had nearly dozed off himself under the hypnotic drone of Professor Binns, but Crabbe and Goyle's snoring behind him had ruined any chance of peace.
"Maybe it's the effect of the lullaby," Lycos said dryly, eyes barely open.
Despite his growing drowsiness, Lycos had pushed himself to stay awake for a few more minutes. He discovered that while Professor Binns' voice resembled the wheeze of an ancient vacuum cleaner, his lecture actually covered useful historical details that weren't even in the textbook.
"...The early British wizarding community was chaotic and lawless. Wizards were persecuted by outside forces and lacked proper magical training, until the four Founders established Hogwarts in the late 10th century…"
Hovering just above the dais, Professor Binns continued to drone on, voice as dry and brittle as parchment. And yet, if you could endure the delivery, the content was surprisingly informative.
"So those vanishing staircases really were traps to stop invaders?" Draco whispered to Lycos, inching closer. "I thought you were pulling my leg earlier."
"Of course," Lycos replied with a shrug.
"What, you think Rowena Ravenclaw built those staircases just to torture her own students?"
"...After the 12th century, the growing wizarding world formed the Wizards' Council, which later became the Ministry of Magic in 1707… but even before that, there existed a secretive department known as the Department of Mysteries—records of which are scarce…"
Professor Binns didn't pause once. In fact, as a ghost, he didn't even need to breathe.
At this point, even the notoriously studious Ravenclaws had begun to fold over their desks like wilting flowers.
"Hey, Lycos," Draco leaned in again, a mischievous gleam in his eye, "do you think he ever actually looks down at the classroom?"
Professor Binns was floating in midair, absorbed in his translucent notes and making no eye contact whatsoever.
"He hasn't noticed anyone falling asleep. What if we just… slipped out? Think he'd notice?"
"What if he takes attendance at the end?" Lycos replied lazily, resting his chin in his hand.
"Please, I bet he couldn't care less," Draco scoffed. "Besides, my father's on the Board of Governors. What's he gonna do—expel me for sneaking out of History of Magic?"
Draco immediately put his plan into action. Hunching low, he crept through the shadows on the side of the room, inching toward the door—
"Mr. Manure, what are you doing?"
The ancient vacuum sound abruptly cut off.
Draco froze mid-step.
The sudden silence cleared the room's fog like a charm. Even the groggiest students perked up and turned to stare at him.
A Ravenclaw near the window even obligingly pulled back a curtain, letting a beam of sunlight spotlight Draco like a criminal caught red-handed.
Draco straightened slowly, mentally panicking over how this ghost, who never looked at anyone, had just called him out.
"I—my name's Malfoy, not Manure," he blurted, trying to redirect the conversation while scrambling for an excuse.
"Very well, Malfour. What are you doing?" Professor Binns corrected smoothly—though still not quite correctly.
"I… I wasn't feeling well," Draco mumbled, face flushed.
"A poor excuse. I've heard that one not ten thousand, but at least several thousand times in my career. Slytherin, minus one point," Binns intoned flatly. "Return to your seat, Malzahar."
Even in reprimand, Professor Binns' tone remained dry, emotionless, and painfully monotonous.
Draco trudged back to his seat in utter defeat.
"I'm such an idiot," he whispered to Lycos, voice full of self-loathing. "This ghost has been teaching for centuries. He's seen every excuse in the book. Why did I think I could pull a fast one?"
"Don't beat yourself up," Lycos said with a grin. "You livened up the class. Haven't you noticed? The room's positively buzzing with energy now."
Draco turned around and realized with horror that the previously half-asleep students were now all wide awake—and looking at him like he was the best entertainment they'd had in weeks.
Except for two.
"Crabbe! Goyle!"
Draco growled, redirecting his shame and rage toward his two snoring lackeys.
"If you two hadn't been snoring loud enough to rattle the windows, I would've gotten some sleep! Then I wouldn't have tried sneaking out! Then I wouldn't be the laughingstock of the whole class!"
Seething, he began smacking their pudgy arms.
Crabbe and Goyle remained comatose—but Professor Binns, curiously, took notice.
"What's that noise?" he asked suddenly.
Draco froze again, breath caught.
"No need to be shy," Binns said cryptically.
For the first time ever, the ghost's expression shifted—into something resembling a smile, though it looked more like a grimace of discomfort.
"There's no need to clap. Just take good notes. I'm not the vain type."
He waved a transparent hand modestly, as though someone had just applauded.
Draco stared, bewildered. "Lycos… is he mad?"
Lycos replied seriously, "You try teaching the same subject every day, emotionlessly, for centuries. Anyone would crack. The only reason we don't notice the breakdown is because he's a ghost."
"Also, imagine getting nothing but negative feedback for hundreds of years. That's gotta be soul-crushing."
"Maybe," Lycos added with a twinkle in his eye, "he just needs a little… positive reinforcement."
He leaned over and whispered something into Draco's ear.
Draco's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?!"
"Go on, brave soul." Lycos patted him on the shoulder. "Don't let that earlier embarrassment be your legacy."
Draco gulped, nodded firmly—then suddenly leapt to his feet.
"Clap clap clap clap—"
He clapped enthusiastically and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Professor! That was brilliant!"