Compared to the members of the Foundation within that worldview, the pace at which the Defense Against the Dark Arts class consumes its "Professors" could only be considered child's play among children's games.
"Secret Circle of Practitioners, is there something wrong with that name?" Qiu Zhang was a bit puzzled by Ian's reaction.
Maybe geniuses always think in ways that people like her can't keep up with?
"The Secret Circle of Practitioners..." Ian finally understood why the abbreviation was SCP, and he could only admire whoever came up with such a name — they must really be a genius.
"Let's call it SCOP, try to persuade them when we go back." Ian belonged to the typical hometown mentality; he didn't believe in vague implications, but he also didn't want to attract any possible bad luck.
The name SCP just sounded like the entire group would meet their doom.
Not a single sound after death.
"Huh? That's a bit too strange, isn't it?" Qiu Zhang found Ian's naming convention even harder to understand. Did the O in the middle stand for Ian's participation?
Organizer?
Orchestrator?
But that was still too strange. Qiu Zhang, feeling like her brain was running in overdrive, was baffled. All the way, she couldn't figure out what Ian meant by adding that O.
Soon.
The two returned to the Ravenclaw Common Room.
"You should head back first."
Ian stood at the door with no intention of going inside.
"Aren't you going back to the common room to rest?" Qiu Zhang asked with slight curiosity, only to see Ian shake his head, his gaze fixed on the bronze eagle head on the door to the Ravenclaw Common Room.
"I want to study our common room's door." He certainly wouldn't foolishly tell Qiu Zhang in front of him that he'd been enjoying talks with the bronze eagle head recently.
Who knows if Qiu Zhang would go back and tell others that he's also in love with the bronze eagle head? This classmate who had once sat with him on a boat possessed a bit of Gryffindor spirit. Watching Qiu Zhang enter the door and the door subsequently closing, Ian once again sat down on the ground to begin his lecture for the day.
Only the student wasn't a little wizard.
But the bronze eagle head on the Ravenclaw Common Room door.
"Where should we start today?"
Ian thought about how hard he studied in his past life, yet the things he learned had no place in this world — he might as well make use of it in this life.
Knowledge needs to be passed on.
Besides magic.
Why not number theory, algebraic geometry, partial differential equations? Even if those topics were exhausted, he could discuss other casual topics with the bronze eagle head.
Like Socrates, Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz, Locke, and Marx.
...
The Spell class shared with Gryffindor was certainly not exciting.
The students of both houses didn't have any conflicts, and with the "newcomer" buff at the start of the school year, the first-year little wizards from Gryffindor hadn't yet become as restless as those before them.
"Is everyone here? I'm going to take roll now." Professor Flitwick had a habit of checking the attendance list one by one before starting class.
Every little wizard's name would be checked, making it almost impossible to play hooky, but first-year little wizards hadn't yet developed such habits anyway.
In the first Spell class a few days ago, Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw, made the students have a keen interest in the Spell class, much like Professor McGonagall did.
Professor Flitwick's act of making the room's furniture and books dance together received applause that far exceeded Professor McGonagall's impressive Leopard Transformation Technique.
All the students were eager to start learning the Spell class, in stark contrast to Professor Snape of the Magic Potion Class, who received zero applause every year.
Perhaps Snape thought his introduction was cool and attractive, but his posture and tone only made everyone remember the word "idiot" in his speech.
"In previous classes, we have learned some spell theory. I hope you haven't forgotten the proper pronunciation exercises I asked you to practice after class."
Compared to professors of other subjects, Professor Flitwick, due to his short stature, had to stand on a pile of books to reach the desk when lecturing.
"The Lighting Spell is one of the greatest magical creations of the last century. It's simple and practical and can even offer some assistance when dealing with certain special creatures."
"Fluorescent Flickering!"
Professor Flitwick's voice was sharp, but there was no mistaking the clarity in his incantation. After narrating the history of the Lighting Spell, he demonstrated its usage to everyone.
Every syllable was clearly enunciated.
It seemed as if he were teaching kindergarten students to speak.
"Remembering the correct way to wave your wand and the correct pronunciation of the spell is very important. I've seen some students perform very well with the Lighting Technique during your admission ceremony."
As he spoke.
Professor Flitwick looked at his own house, his gaze filled with a fond admiration, "Especially you, Mr. Prince. Your Lighting Spell left a deep impression on me. Besides lighting up half of the Black Lake with vigorous magic power that one night, you have also demonstrated some really advanced techniques in recent contests with other houses."