A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 724: Eve

Chapter 724: Eve

Professor McGonagall appeared after a while. She was used to Felix causing a stir now and then, and they had previously discussed integrating Felix's magic into the school, although they hadn't convinced the Sorting Hat at the time. Therefore, she first calmly soothed a portion of the startled teachers and students before returning to the headmaster's office.

Felix sat on the couch, seemingly without having moved an inch—except for the book of magic spells he was engrossingly reading in his hands. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Professor McGonagall looked at him scrutinizingly and then asked, "Did you gain a lot?"

"Yes," Felix said with a smile, "It broadened my horizons and increased my knowledge. Although I didn't get to speak directly with the four founders, it felt like I truly journeyed with them." He paused, somewhat embarrassedly adding, "Minerva, there's something you should probably know…"

"You took a third of the school's magic?" Professor McGonagall exclaimed loudly. Felix nodded sheepishly, confirming she heard right. After triple-checking, Professor McGonagall had no choice but to accept this reality, asking calmly, "Does it affect the school?"

"A bit, but it won't interfere with the school's daily magical operations, cough, I think—the armors and statues in the castle will be quiet for a while, sorry for spoiling your Christmas plans…"

Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze swept over him, her voice stuttering, "You knew?"

"The 'Stonehenge Dance Troupe' is a good name, it corresponds exactly to the spell that controls them."

Professor McGonagall looked at him expressionlessly, her lips pressed tightly together, and her fingers bending and flexing indicated her mood was anything but calm, as if she might rush over to throttle him at any moment.

Felix quickly added,

"…It wasn't intentional. I just happened to glance at it when putting the Sorting Hat back, and anyone would have taken a second look at a comic strip among a pile of documents on the table…" Then he said with a charming smile, "Minerva, it's the first time I realized you could draw. If I were to rate it, I'd say it's very lifelike."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, deciding not to dwell on this topic. She collected herself and then asked, "Do you really need that much magic? Isn't the current magic enough?" As she spoke, she suddenly glanced at Felix's book of magic spells, where thin pages were swirling with heart-thumping violet and ice-blue magic, and a tiny snake joyfully swam around, its silver transparent body bobbing through the pages.

"If it's just for a prepared battle, it would barely suffice, but I wanted to do something extra," Felix pondered with his hand on his chin, "I'm not sure if it will work since it's not like I can actually commit a massacre."

"Do something extra? That is—"

"We've drawn so many big pies, we should at least realize one, and also to prove to the world that wizards always have a way out, the things they value are not as important as they think."

"What are you referring to?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.

"The land."

They were silent for nearly a minute, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black stroking his goatee said, "It seems I've figured it out, you want to play the hero alone."

"Any bright ideas?" Felix asked politely.

"No bright ideas, just lots of dull ones," the portrait of Black sarcastically said, "Skipping the part where you prove yourself a fool, let's get straight to the point—" he suddenly gripped the frame and shouted, "Boy, you can't do this! You're the most famous great wizard after Salazar Slytherin!"

"Speaking of great wizards, Tom Riddle—"

"Let him roll!"

"And Merlin—"

"To hell with Merlin!" Black's portrait said roughly, "That's something for Gryffindor to do, but you're Slytherin. We're brave, but not stupid, understand? There's no need to stick your neck out alone, at least pull in a bunch, like those reckless Gryffindors and the silly Hufflepuffs…"

This immediately sparked protests from the portraits of other house heads. Felix worried if he ended up on the wall one day, he'd naturally be on the same side as Headmaster Black. Fearing this dreadful scenario, he quickly said, "No one understands the original intentions of the four founders better than I do, remember? I just had a chat with the Sorting Hat."

The headmaster portraits stopped and stared at him intently.

"Is Sorting useful? Yes, it helps us find companions and discover noble qualities within—of course, there's more than one kind of noble quality. Overall, some succeed, some don't.

And by the end of our seven-year journey, we'll face challenges far more complex than school."

"Don't forget, people change, think about how many sets of seven years there are in a life—if you had the chance to wear the Sorting Hat at a hundred years old, where would it sort you? Of course, for me personally, it doesn't matter much anymore."

The portraits looked at Dumbledore, if anyone had the experience of being sorted at a hundred years old, it would be Dumbledore.

"Indeed, it doesn't matter much," Dumbledore said within the canvas, "It's in our youth that we have infinite possibilities, to aim for one of Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor as our goal. As we age, we only become ourselves."

The circular office fell silent for a while. Professor McGonagall sniffled, "Alright, alright, I'll leave time for debate, Albus, some things you should have told me while alive…"

She composed herself again, speaking seriously to Felix, "We need to prepare as much as possible, go all out, we don't have much time left, I believe you need time to digest…" Saying this, she strode to her desk, pulling out an album from a drawer.

Felix watched her, surprised.

"Do you need magic?" Professor McGonagall explained while flipping through the pages, "What better place than other world-renowned magic schools? Thanks to this album, I know enough about other schools, I happen to know some schools have defense measures similar to Hogwarts, like Beauxbatons…"

Professor McGonagall lifted her head and looked at Felix, who was standing there dumbfounded, and asked, "What's wrong?" Felix jokingly said, "Minerva, I really want to kiss you." Professor McGonagall blushed and glared at him.

...

In mid-December, Hogwarts was covered in snow, and the Black Lake was frozen solid. Some students trudged through the snow on the grounds, heading to Care of Magical Creatures class, and from a distance, they saw Professor Harp's hut by the lake.

The students had many theories, but none were confirmed, and the professors kept mum about it. The most widely circulated rumor was that Professor Harp was strategizing for an exercise scheduled for the following week—indeed, it was unclear who started it, but people referred to the visible conflict as an 'exercise'.

"It's really just a fig leaf." A boy said solemnly, "My dad wrote to me saying anyone with a brain should support Professor Harp, the International Confederation of Wizards, oh, and the Pan-Magical Alliance—"

"So, you left flowers at the professor's door?" another student teased, "Not only did you get detention, but you also got beaten up by a Niffler?"

The boy's face turned red, "I left a greeting card! A card!"

The students around him laughed, but their gazes towards the small hut by the Black Lake were filled with awe. However, this awe didn't last long as a round, furry black Niffler dashed towards the students, swinging a glowing little stick, babbling in its language.

"Run!" a student shouted, and then bolted, with the rest quickly following suit. But some stayed behind, mostly girls, with eager expressions on their faces.

Valen, Felix's pet Niffler, blinked its shiny black eyes, thrilled. The Dark Lord had been busy with official matters the entire week, not even sparing time for cards. Only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and sometimes Luna, who Valen wasn't sure if she was lost, would specifically come over. Overall, it was a dull week for Valen, but it had found itself a new pastime.

Donning an exquisite cloak, Valen stood on a large stone by the lake and waved grandly. Instantly, the snowy ground tumbled, and crystalline snow Nifflers jumped out, following Valen into a charge. The students who had stayed prepared themselves, their eyes sparkling with excitement, and soon both sides clashed, snowballs flying and laughter and curses filling the air.

After about fifteen minutes, the burly Hagrid stood in front of his house yelling at them.

The battle had to be paused, and both sides, claiming victory, agreed to battle another day. Valen strutted towards the Black Lake, but suddenly found itself airborne, scooped up by someone.

Valen turned around to see Hermione sneaking up, who then smiled.

"Let's go to class together, Professor Slughorn has been asking about you."

"Probably because he found more snacks in a Niffler's pouch than his own," Ron muttered under his breath, and Harry cracked a smile, "But we have to admit, Professor Slughorn always finds the right excuse—what is it this time?" he turned to ask Hermione.

"Oh, I heard he found two hibernating dormice in a pot," Hermione replied cheerily.

"What, Valen wanted to recruit them?" Harry said in surprise, and Valen gestured wildly at him.

They walked towards the castle, occasionally pausing to gaze at the hut by the Black Lake covered in wind-blown snow, silently agreeing to stop talking. At the castle entrance, Harry suddenly said, "I'm considering following Mr. Diggory's advice."

"What?" Ron asked.

"A graduation trip."

"Oh, that," Ron said slowly, "I'm not sure... a few months should be fine, but... Hermione, what about you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I plan to go straight to the Ministry of Magic after graduation. Mrs. Bones said they're short-staffed—people who understand both sides well. My plan is to stay at the Ministry for a few years, then look for an opportunity to be assigned abroad, to travel and see. The charter of the International Confederation and Alliance mentions many departments still in the planning stage, and I think the Pan-Magical Alliance's observer suits me well..."

Ron stroked his chin.

"So, one of you plans to go abroad then return, and the other is always ready to go abroad."

"That sums it up nicely," Harry said.

No one mentioned the possibility of mishaps, as if they were confident about the future. They entered the castle, glanced into the hall, where the fire roared warmly, and twelve Christmas trees stood tall. Harry looked at the empty tables, which would soon be laden with plump roast turkeys,

heaps of roast and boiled potatoes, delicious sausages, buttered peas, thick gravy, and cranberry sauce...

Of course, there would also be Christmas crackers. Harry reminisced about last year's Christmas dinner:

He and Ron pulled sailor hats, nowhere near as splendid as their tiger and parrot hats. Then he thought of the two who definitely couldn't attend this year's Christmas—Dumbledore, wearing antler hats, smiling and urging people to eat more, and Grindelwald, who had drawn a red Christmas hat while disguised as Professor Bashir...

...

Felix lay on his simple bed, in a state between dreaming and waking, staring at the book of magic spells bathed in a soft violet and ice-blue glow. A tiny snake swam through the pages—

It was his new Patronus.

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