A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 633 Someone's starting to cause trouble
While Longbottom and Black were brainstorming, Charles hurried along the corridors of Farbottom Castle.

He had just finished a technical discussion on "artificial intelligence disability" and went straight to the finance office after leaving the meeting room to collect his salary for last month.

Pushing open the heavy copper-clad oak door of the finance office, he saw Professor Delacour standing in front of the counter.

Professor Delacour was holding a commission slip that was clearly Gabrielle's project commission slip, and he was also waiting to collect his payment.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Professor Delacour's keen gaze lingered on Charles's face for a moment.

He frowned slightly and asked in a low voice with concern, "You don't look too well, young man."

"Have you encountered some difficulties?"

He noticed the fine lines that unconsciously furrowed between Charles's brows, as if they were marks unintentionally made by invisible worries.

Charles nodded.

Professor McGonagall's advice about whether he should take the NEWTs exam this academic year has been swirling in his mind lately.

The thought itself was troubling enough, but it also quietly gave rise to a more fundamental question: was it still necessary for me to spend a full seven years at Hogwarts in a structured manner?

Charles hesitated for a moment, then said in a voice a few decibels lower than usual, "There is indeed something that is making me hesitant to make a decision."

He took a deep breath and decided to express his confusion to the professor, who would likely become family in the future: "I'm curious why Professor McGonagall would suggest that I take the ultimate wizarding exam this school year."

Is there some special reason behind this?

"You didn't know?" Professor Delacour seemed quite surprised, his eyebrows raised high as if he had heard something unbelievable. "The Ministry of Magic's Education Order No. 24 was issued before the start of the school year."

"It requires all courses at Hogwarts to establish clear 'key performance indicators' and directly link the results of OWLs and NEWTs exams and final exams to teacher performance evaluations and even the House Cup competition."

Charles stared in shock, his heart sinking.

He immediately understood. Good heavens, he thought Umbridge had changed and stopped playing dirty tricks in secret, but it turned out she was going to directly confront the professors.

This strike is quite powerful; the sharp blade is aimed directly at the foundation of Hogwarts and could potentially overturn the school's millennia-old teaching traditions.

No wonder Professor McGonagall made me take the exam privately; she probably wanted to boost the pass rate this year and secure a place in this cold, hard numbers game.

Professor Delacour hurriedly stuffed the gold coins into his pocket, turned and left, saying he had to rush to return the money to Gabrielle.

Charles stood there alone, his mind churning. The confusion he had felt earlier had not dissipated; instead, it had enveloped him like an even thicker fog.

He decided to go to the Three Broomsticks bar for a drink and hear what other people had to say, hoping it would help him sort things out.

The bar was bustling with noise. Just as Ms. Rosmerta served Charles a plum, lime, and lemonade, Professor McGonagall burst in.

She walked briskly, her brow furrowed, her emerald green robe fluttering, pausing slightly when she saw Charles.

“Charles,” she said, “it just so happens that I’ve run into you.”

"There are some things we need to talk about."

Charles sat down with Professor McGonagall in a corner booth, and Ms. Rosmerta brought him her usual drink.

After thanking Ms. Rosmerta, Professor McGonagall turned to Charles and said with utmost seriousness, "Charles, would you be willing to consider starting an after-school transfiguration class?"

"Huh?" Charles was taken aback; this was a development he had never anticipated.

"A tutoring class?" he asked, puzzled. "What's the purpose of this class?"

Professor McGonagall took a document out of her handbag and handed it to Charles.

This is a newly released document, the "Hogwarts Teaching and Assessment Scheme," signed by Umbridge.

The plan lists cold, hard performance indicators for each subject, and the Transfiguration course is naturally included:

The pass rate for OWL exams must reach 10%.

The failure rate for NEWTs exams must be kept below 5%; the percentage of students achieving excellent grades in the final exams for all other grades must increase by 10% compared to the average level of the previous three years.
……

Charles quickly calculated it in his mind and said, "In terms of Transfiguration alone, having students like Hermione in previous years greatly raised the baseline for the final exam pass rate."

"And in Ginny's class, and in the classes that followed, it seems that no student emerged who could rival her."

“And you,” Professor McGonagall looked intently at him, “so I hope to have your help in tutoring a group of promising students outside of class.”

Charles did not answer immediately.

He picked up his glass, took a few sips of his drink, thought for a moment, shook his head, and said, "Professor, I don't believe that students who don't study hard in class can easily improve their grades significantly through after-school tutoring."

Professor McGonagall has always been a genius and believes that she can learn the spell with a little effort.

Charles was well aware that many people never learn calculus in their entire lives.

He continued, "If tutoring is to be offered, the target group should perhaps be limited to students who have a strong desire to improve their grades."

"Mandatory, large-scale tutoring consumes a huge amount of energy and has very limited effects, making it a losing proposition."

Professor McGonagall seemed to understand what he meant and nodded thoughtfully.

Charles then shared his suggestion, and the vice principal said it made some sense.

For him, it was impossible to personally start and manage a tutoring class; his time and energy simply didn't allow it.

All he can do is come up with ideas and try to persuade suitable people to take charge and implement them.

The two people present both knew who this "other person" was—it was someone who had just walked into the bar with his friends and shivered.

After telling this story, Professor McGonagall began to complain.

After putting down her cup, she said, "I'm a little worried that this approach might ruin the magic itself!"

"To meet the assessment targets, we can only teach the exam content and have students practice the spell movements repeatedly until they can pass blindfolded, instead of trying to understand why the transformations of moose and mouse work differently!"

Someone eavesdropping at the next table asked "someone else," "What's the difference?"

“I worry that we will abandon teaching based on students’ interests and stifle their creativity because these methods are ‘inefficient’ and do not meet the standards.”

After Professor McGonagall finished speaking, she took a big gulp of her drink, which made her feel a bit better.

In her view, Charles was not just a student, but also a "successful person".

Charles said with a wry smile, "This approach might work in company management, but it's probably not suitable for schools."

Professor McGonagall's face showed weariness and sorrow as she said, "Umbridge believes that the value of education can be measured in numbers."

"But she didn't understand that true education and magic happen in moments that cannot be quantified: the joy of a student's first successful transformation, the reflection after failure, and the imaginative ideas that go beyond the textbook."

"Although the Weasley twins often break school rules, I cannot deny that their ingenuity and practical skills are among the best of Hogwarts students."

"Oh, only for seventh graders this year."

“And Umbridge is now using these numbers to put shackles on Hogwarts.”

“I am very worried that future students will only know the magic of exam papers and nothing else.”

She expressed concern about the future.

Charles said in a serious tone, "Please don't worry, I did a survey before and I couldn't believe the results. There are so many people—even those who work at the Ministry of Magic—who can't even use a decent Armor Charm."

"From this perspective, it can raise the bar for students."

(End of this chapter)