A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 536: The Quiet Thunder

The following morning, Felix Harp attended his classes as usual. Naturally, there were others who handled the three remaining wanted criminals; he didn't concern himself too much with that. At most, he checked and supplemented this year's newly added defensive measures at the school. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall had been busy for quite a while now.

They were guarding against Death Eaters, as described by Professor Flitwick in his Charms class. "The Dark Lord always considered Dumbledore a thorn in his side during the First War! Who knows what he might do this time?" Of course, when Felix discussed it privately with Snape, they both believed that Voldemort wouldn't intentionally harm students.

What he sought was control, not slaughter. But as Flitwick mentioned, there were several individuals in the school whom Voldemort disliked. It used to be Dumbledore; now, in addition to Felix, there were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, three students who embarrassed him. Broadly speaking, this group also included wizards from Muggle families and those who didn't endorse his brutal ideology.

Voldemort wouldn't specifically target these individuals for now—that would come after he gained control of the British wizarding world, part of his "grand plan." However, anyone slightly astute would realize that if Voldemort intended something, regardless of his target, he wouldn't show mercy to the innocent.

Therefore, defensive measures became crucial.

"You don't need me to tell you about the exams next June. Yes, the year has finally arrived," Felix said in his Ancient Runes class to fifth-years. "I bet you've been hearing similar statements since last year, almost like a countdown ticking away in your minds—"

"It's actually been three years," Ron whispered. "Because we had a friend, her name was Miss Know-It-All."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Overall, you're lucky. Ancient Runes only introduced practical exams this year, so there weren't specific requirements before. This means this year's exam won't be too difficult, and the scope will be relatively narrow."

And this year was the O.W.L. year!

"Magical puppets, the three most common types among the seven mirror gazes, and the Runic cards… Besides that, it's related to what we'll be discussing today: from now until Christmas, you'll be learning how to create twelve protective talismans."

"The core of each talisman is a set of runic circuits. Of course, the reality is much more complex, considering magical stability and longevity... Today, we'll be focusing on a talisman that wards off dark creatures. You'll discover that the entire runic circuit revolves around illuminative runes."

"You're not strangers to this knowledge, but it's not too in-depth. Today's lesson will help you better understand and consolidate these contents." Felix paused, looking down. "You all should have runic pamphlets, right?"

The students nodded in unison.

"Excellent. Besides covering some fundamental theories, this booklet thoroughly analyzes an ancient magic—Lumos. I've lectured on this magic in the Runic Club. The core of Lumos is the illuminative runes. Furthermore, the highly regarded Bright Blaze Charm by the Anti-Dark Arts Association also employs these runes... In short, it's become a highly representative symbol, or rather, a point for examination."

A brave student couldn't help but ask, "Professor, does this rune appear in the O.W.L. exams?"

Felix blinked. "I can only say, the possibility is high, Mr. Thomas."

With a wave of his wand, the board filled with inscriptions. "The crafting methods are in your textbooks, and the board lists the precautions. Additionally—" Another wave produced a cluster of white smoke from the wand, forming a series of continuous images. "Images of talisman crafting for your reference."

The students were somewhat familiar with this but experiencing it in an Ancient Runes class was a first. They gazed at the pictures in the air—

A clean, slender hand wielded a runic knife—they guessed it was Professor Hagrid—swiftly inscribing burning runes onto a palm-sized chestnut board. The speed was astonishing; before the first rune cooled, the final one was completed, connecting the entire runic circuit, bursting into a bright light. When the brilliance faded, the hand resumed its movements. They could only understand a part of the subsequent actions, but after nearly three minutes, a talisman was completed.

The mist in the air suddenly froze, the scene returning to its initial state, starting a new cycle.

"I haven't seen clearly—"

"You need to combine the textbook with the precautions on the board."

"So, do we just need to follow these steps?" Harry marveled, "I wish Potions class were this straightforward." Fifth-year potion recipes were exceedingly complex, any slight oversight turning the potion into a useless brew.

"Snape should really learn from this instead of focusing on deducting points from us," Ron grumbled.

"I think Professor Binns needs it too," chimed in Simo. His words garnered agreement; it was widely known that Professor Binns could turn thrilling tales of fairy rebellions and giant wars into tedious technical reports. As soon as he started talking, students couldn't help but doze off.

When the classroom quieted down, Felix said, "I don't expect you to succeed in one go, but aiming high is always good. Anyway, let's begin."

The students below took out their runic knives and chestnut boards, attempting to create the talismans.

Throughout the class, Felix moved around, pointing out various issues with the students. He noticed a phenomenon—or rather, it had been noticeable for a while, today being just another repetition—Slytherin students showed great reverence towards him.

This behavior was markedly different and couldn't be explained by adhering to classroom discipline alone. At least—they also deliberately slowed their speech when they encountered him in the corridors, appearing exceptionally solemn, almost as if afraid of causing a scene in front of him.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Felix initially thought this reverence stemmed from the Elder Wand's reputation, but the Ministry had already debunked this, yet their attitude persisted. He even suspected if they knew about his recent 'strolls' in Hogwarts.

Even Gryffindor students noticed this anomaly.

"Slytherins are acting odd from top to bottom," Ron mentioned during lunch, waving his fork. "I'm starting to think they're in cahoots with Percy."

"What about Percy?" Harry asked.

"Percy's busy! Of course, he's also thrilled. I mean, hosting two major events last year in a row, he might have a few years of leisure ahead, but now with this Ancient Runes exchange event, it's massive news for him."

"Do Slytherins still think the professor has the Elder Wand?" Hermione asked. "Didn't the professor clarify that?"

"Perhaps they're just too eager for recognition," Harry said, understanding this more than Ron and Hermione. He had been playing Quidditch against Slytherin for three years and was familiar with their style.

Slytherin's bad reputation was related to various factors. They were arrogant, obsessed with lineage, but more than that, they fostered an environment that overemphas

ized honor and wouldn't shy away from using many small tricks to win when at a disadvantage.

"What you're saying is right," Nearly Headless Nick floated over, "In their eyes, Professor Hagrid might become the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I don't know who started this rumor, but it suddenly became popular in Slytherin."

"But what does that imply?" Harry asked.

"Oh, certainly, certainly," Nearly Headless Nick said, "Do you know how many Headmasters came from Slytherin in the school's history?"

"Uh..." Harry was puzzled. He looked at Ron, who appeared equally bewildered, then at Hermione, whose expression was rather peculiar. Uncertainly, he said, "Maybe about a dozen? Are they that rare?" Nearly Headless Nick shook his head, and Harry added another question.

He only knew of one, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, regarded as the most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts history.

"Not rare at all, just one, Phineas Black," Nearly Headless Nick revealed the answer.

"Just one?" Harry asked in surprise. He finally understood why Hermione had such a strange expression. She probably had memorized 'Hogwarts: A History' cover to cover.

"Over thirty Headmasters, only one from Slytherin. So, you can imagine their anticipation... To be honest, I think Professor Black's rapid acceptance by Slytherin might also be related to being the sole Slytherin Headmaster, despite later generations not rating him highly."

"But wasn't he the most unpopular Headmaster?" Harry murmured.

"Both can be true at once. Some of his actions in office were quite distasteful, but initially, Slytherin House celebrated his appointment; there were high hopes for Headmaster Black at the time," Nearly Headless Nick mentioned, "Although later even the Slytherin students couldn't bear him."

"And what did he do that earned such ire?" Ron grumbled.

"I cannot speak ill of him behind his back. After all, he was once the headmaster of Hogwarts. You can look it up yourselves," Nearly Headless Nick said before drifting away.

At the dining table, Harry and the others paused briefly, then resumed eating in silence.

"Any news?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Today? None," she replied shortly.

"Has the International Confederation of Wizards approved Professor Dumbledore's application yet?" Ron inquired.

"Not quite yet, but preparations have commenced. Regardless of their decision, the activities will proceed, although their impact will diminish significantly," Hermione explained the intricacies, "And it will slow down the spread of ancient runes in other magical schools."

Suddenly, Harry coughed violently.

"Is something the matter? Did I miss something?" Ron asked.

"It's obvious. They mentioned inviting ancient runic experts and other school heads. Why do you think that is?" Hermione countered.

Upon hearing this, Harry and Ron began to understand.

"How's the 'Pumpkin Pie' doing lately, do you know?" After a while, Ron asked, "I've been swamped with homework, and the little time I have is for Quidditch practice." He sighed, "I understand what Fred and George meant now; O.W.L.s year really transforms you—it peels off layers!"

"I had Hagrid send him a huge package of snacks," Harry admitted. He wasn't sure if Hagrid had shared it with Grawp; it wasn't enough for a giant's appetite.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione sighed, "I wish he'd come back soon; Professor Grubbly-Plank is obviously more popular."

"Professor Grubbly-Plank has her own set of affairs," Ron said, "She owns a small estate with magical creatures that serve as wizarding pets. Fred mentioned she has a vast area for Fire Crabs..."

Harry and Hermione both looked at him simultaneously.

"How do you know?"

Ron shrugged, "Fred and George were around Hogsmeade, near Professor Grubbly-Plank's estate. Once, a few Crups ran out, and Fred and George helped catch them."

"Why haven't I seen that pet shop in Hogsmeade?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"No shop. Professor Grubbly-Plank only offers customized services or exports abroad. Each pet requires special permits."

"Special permits?"

"Yeah, for creatures like Fire Crabs, Crups, and Erklings—moderately dangerous but not overly so. They're wizarding pets. Of course, not for kids. Charlie was obsessed with Erklings for a while, but our family only has Kneazles and Imps. Occasionally, you might see a Porlock or a Horklump..."

During the weekend, Harry gathered the members of the Dueling Club, and there were slightly more attendees than the previous year. Luna tagged along. As Ginny quietly explained to Harry, Luna curiously examined the Room of Requirement, as if she had taken a wrong turn.

"We'll cover some topics not taught in class, like protective spells, runic magic, and some very practical spells, like the directional charm we learned during the Triwizard Tournament. And it's not just about learning magic; we can sit and chat or occasionally take a stroll by the Black Lake," Harry explained his plans for the Dueling Club to everyone.

"Where is this?" Ginny asked.

"It's the Room of Requirement. It provides us with training space, and most importantly, equipment we can use without worrying about damage," Harry explained immediately.

Everyone looked around in surprise as rows of targets and mats materialized before their eyes.

For the next while, Harry, Ron, and Hermione guided others in casting sparks from their wands. "Don't underestimate it; it can be a lifesaver in critical moments," Ron half-seriously commented. While everyone could make their wand spark, using it as a warning wasn't as easy.

After the first session ended, they dispersed near the tapestries in the Room of Requirement.

"Not bad, huh?" Hermione said.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. He didn't want to explain the feelings he experienced with Ginny in those two minutes alone. It felt like stealing, and neither he nor Ginny brought up how to make the sparks more focused or brighter. But he couldn't quite recall the specifics of their conversation.

They descended the spiral staircase, heading for the Great Hall for dinner. At the corner between the third and second floors, they heard loud voices coming from the entrance hall. They exchanged glances and quickened their pace. The voices became clearer; it was a woman's scream.

"What's happening?" Ron exclaimed.

Many people were crowded in the entrance hall, blocking the center. The noise was incessant. People at the back were excitedly craning their necks to see. Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed through the crowd. "Make way, we're Prefects!" Ron shouted.

"Who isn't?" Draco Malfoy said in his ear.

Ron jumped, then scowled, "What are you doing here?"

"Just watching," Draco drawled, "or to use your terminology, performing my Prefect duties?"

Ron reddened.

Harry stayed silent. His eyes first found Professor Snape, standing sternly amidst the chaos, seemingly facing a thorny problem. But he wasn't at the heart of the issue; he was merely an onlooker. Harry shifted his gaze, observing the two women surrounded in the middle—Muggle Studies Professor Charity Burbage was shouting at Professor McGonagall, "Let me go, Minerva, let me go!"

"I won't allow it," Professor McGonagall said firmly, lips tight. "Albus Dumbledore wouldn't allow it either."

Professor Burbage was dragging two suitcases, stuffed to the brim; that seemed to be her entire belongings. Harry gathered from the murmurs around that Professor Burbage, for unknown reasons, suddenly wanted to leave the school.

"Professor Burbage hasn't been doing well lately," a worried third-year girl mentioned.

"She seems disoriented..."

"Maybe she's too eager to finish her new book," a knowledgeable student chimed in.

In the center of the entrance hall, Professor McGonagall held onto Burbage firmly. "Charity, if being confined in a Muggle prison bothers you..."

"Oh, it's not because of that," Professor Burbage sobbed.

"What's the reason?"

Professor Burbage's eyes widened suddenly, staring blankly at the dim sky, as if something invisible was about to swoop down and snatch her away. Trembling, she said, "It's a nightmare... I—I've become a Squib!"

The entrance hall erupted into chaos.

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