A Professor of Magic Chapter 556: New Subjects

Chapter 556: New Subjects

"Never seen such a spectacular sight!" Fred approached, wearing a strangely contented expression.

Harry glanced at the notice board, understanding what he ant. There were over a hundred student society nas posted, most established within a week. The students below chattered incessantly. He overheard Justin claiming he had "seen a hundred types of snuffboxes." Harry scanned the parchnt, discovering similar clubs, unsure if they were "Muggle crafts" or "fairy magic creations."

A Hufflepuff student nearby animatedly introduced magical portraits. "Animating things on paper is simple, the basics. There are far more complex thods. You can even interact with the figures inside!"

"Isn't that just like the portraits in the castle?" his companion remarked.

"Not at all!" The student flushed, raising his voice. "Imagine this: a little figure trapped in a maze, avoiding being devoured by a hundred Exploding Snailtails. He relies on you to escape. You must use your wits to help him. When he's out, he'll thank you from the canvas..."

Harry found it intriguing at first, but the student soon began inviting the audience to join his "Magical Portrait Club," leaving Harry astonished.

At that mont, Hermione erged from the crowd, beaming.

"It worked!" She exclaid, elated. "Three people are interested in joining S.P.E.W., all new students. I never expected such compassion from this year's newcors."

"Hermione, don't abuse your prefect authority. That's what you told ," Ron said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Ron remained silent, then, as Hermione rejoined the crowd, he leaned toward Harry. "If it's not because of their prefect authority, it ans these young wizards lack basic education. They can't even spell 'vomit'..."

In a corner, Felix and Snape stood together.

"I thought you wouldn't bother with these trivial matters," Snape's lips moved, his voice confined to a small circle, heard only by them.

"Just a small favor," Felix replied, watching the chaotic students.

He found himself developing a peculiar habit after studying Dentors — he enjoyed being in positive, cheerful atmospheres. Unfortunately, midway through his research, he ran out of Dentors. Long story short, the last one starved, unable to resist consuming a portion of the emotions Felix had painstakingly collected. So Felix ended up conducting so destructive experints on that Dentor...

As he pondered restocking, he softly asked, "Feeling overwheld with part-ti responsibilities lately?"

Snape took a deep breath, speaking in a tone devoid of emotion, "Easier than teaching a group of giants."

"Oh," Felix counted the Gryffindor students in the crowd. "One, two, three, four..."

Snape turned to him expressionlessly. Felix smirked, "Luckily, I don't have that trouble. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor students are doing well..." He paused, adding, "Soone told

the person we can't even na has been feeling down lately. The Ministry Aurors are sowhat disappointed, you know, aningless overti is quite disheartening."

Snape remained silent.

His mind wandered back to half a month ago. Shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, he felt the Dark Mark on his arm burn fiercely, Voldemort summoning him. He didn't move imdiately; it was a privilege given to him by Voldemort due to his undercover status — he didn't have to respond imdiately to summons.

So he acted as if nothing had happened, waiting calmly until Dumbledore returned. Dumbledore showed him a withered hand, murmuring about how much ti he had left. Snape wanted to punch Dumbledore's twisted nose.

Dumbledore wasn't actually injured, at least not to Snape's eyes. What truly mattered wasn't that hand, but Dumbledore's suddenly youthful face. Yet, before Snape could inquire further, the conversation diverged.

Snape understood Dumbledore's intention. He stared at the lifeless, charred hand, etching that image into his mind, ready to recreate the mory as needed.

From that day until evening, the Dark Mark changed twice more, increasingly urgent, eventually causing him unbearable pain.

So Snape had to go to Voldemort earlier than anticipated. Before leaving, he devised a reason — Dumbledore ordered him to remain at the school, unable to leave. But when he t Voldemort, the Dark Lord didn't inquire about the relevant questions. Snape had never seen Voldemort so unhinged before; those red eyes seed hungry for prey.

Bellatrix — the crucial woman Dumbledore warned him about — was now with Voldemort, visibly on edge.

Voldemort instructed Snape to imdiately return to the castle, confirm the status of a certain crown, and report back before dawn.

Snape felt Voldemort had gone mad. It seed Voldemort didn't care if his cover was blown. Still, Snape agreed. He returned to the school, ghosting to the eighth floor, then turning into the Headmaster's office — the life of a double agent required twice the reporting ti.

Approximating the ti, he t Voldemort again.

This ti, they t at Augustus Rookwood's old house, as the 'loyal' Death Eater was currently in Azkaban, leaving his ho at Voldemort's disposal. Bellatrix remained by Voldemort's side, seemingly intended to accompany him continuously.

Snape reported collected information without a hint of emotion, and of course, the crown was lost. Voldemort exploded in anger, vehently cursing Dumbledore, using every malicious word he could summon.

Then ca contradictory orders from his mouth.

Initially, he bitterly instructed Snape to poison Dumbledore while treating his wounds. "Let Dumbledore die, let him die!" Voldemort roared madly. But soon after, he dismissed the idea. "Investigate the crown's whereabouts," he gritted his teeth. "Find out if it's destroyed or hidden. If necessary, break into the Headmaster's office. No, wait for my signal..."

"I'll arrange for a Ministry spy to assist you."

However, after half a month, there was no word from Voldemort, as if he had vanished. Snape didn't know who the spy ntioned by Voldemort was. Had that person failed to appear?

In the following days, an agitated atmosphere enveloped Hogwarts from top to bottom.

Despite the final weekend of November being a few days away, the students were eager to get things moving. They often used their shared classes from different houses as an opportunity to recruit mbers for their clubs.

From Felix's observations, Gryffindor and Slytherin barely interacted, yet both seed to target Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students, albeit unconsciously.

Even during casual strolls, students from different houses could be seen huddling together in whispered conversations.

Little did Felix expect that so students had their sights set on him.

"Hey, Felix." Luna peeked out from behind a suit of armor, then excitedly erged upon spotting him.

Felix approached. "Luna?" He looked at her with so surprise. Not far away, a group of girls peeked from behind pillars, watching the scene unfold.

"So, um," Luna said seriously, "I'd like to invite you to my club."

"Your club is—"

"The 'Horned Snorkack Definitely Exist' club."

"Oh—" Felix paused, then tentatively asked, "Are you having trouble finding mbers and need

to fill a spot? I an, it's not a problem, but I'm a professor. I'd recomnd Valen—"

"Oh, no. I've already got three mbers," Luna said happily. "But to officially na the club, we need one mber from each house and a professor. The first to claim the spot gets it. I need to act fast."

Felix was sowhat taken aback. "How co I didn't know about this?"

"It's a hidden clue," Luna said.

It must be so inside information, Felix thought. He should've anticipated that, given Hogwarts students' tendencies, all sorts of reliable and unreliable rumors would circulate. He hadn't expected Luna to be the one caught up in it. Glancing at the students in the corner, he reckoned they were her instigators.

After a mont's thought, Felix lowered his voice. "Since you've discovered my interest, alright, I'll join. Just don't tell anyone else."

As he left, Luna was imdiately surrounded by a group of girls, chattering excitedly.

"How did it go? Did you succeed?"

Luna nodded.

"Is the rumor true?" one girl asked.

"The professor won't let

say," Luna replied blankly.

"Oh..." The girls exchanged aningful glances. It seed to be true, and with a drawn-out chorus, they dispersed, off to find a professor.

Back in his office, Felix contemplated creating a portable dentor-catching cage to sell to the Ministry, using dentors as credit. Sitting on the couch, lost in thought, he noticed Valen flipping through "The Wizarding Word," flying pages in the opposite seat.

This periodical was published by Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood. Every month, Felix received a copy along with a set of "The Quibbler."

"The Quibbler" was a typical wizarding tabloid. Though its circulation wasn't massive, it had its readers. From Felix's perspective—despite Luna's claims otherwise—the paper resembled entertainnt news, containing hilarious conspiracy theories and discussions about mythical creatures.

Occasionally, it discussed serious topics, but its conclusions were often far-fetched. Felix had anonymously contributed a few whimsical essays, envisioning the future of the wizarding society. One of them was about Mars exploration:

"A wizard prepared to fly a Muggle-made aircraft to Mars for farming but was intercepted due to using Traceless Extension Charms to smuggle in three hundred Muggles. The Ministry and Muggle governnt stated plans to modify laws, prohibiting all non-transparent containers, making kettles a rare resource on Mars..."

The response? Lukewarm at best.

anwhile, Luna's father, following a similar format, wrote a short story: a fortune-teller touring Mars, unable to make predictions due to the planet's 'aura,' accidentally hit by a teor while flying on a broomstick.

This story had beco a current popular joke. Given the wizarding world's closed nature, it likely wouldn't beco outdated even after a century...

Valen wasn't interested in the intricate theories in "The Wizarding Word" but enjoyed spotting familiar nas. While flipping through, it used its cherished wand to doodle in the air, quickly filling the office with crooked letters. Felix felt dizzy watching and reached out, squishing the airborne words into a glowing ball.

Valen protested.

Felix tossed the ball to Valen, who angrily tossed it back. Soon, the two were cheerfully engaged in this entertaining (or rather, boring) ga.

Before bed, Felix rembered to write a letter to his new pen pal living in Nungard Castle—

"...

It's not about courage or laziness; it's a matter of intellect. Even if I were born in your era, I wouldn't choose to oppose 600,000 wizards and 2 billion ordinary people—enslavent seems the most ti-consuming approach to —especially now, with both sides having nearly tripled their populations.

Speaking of tripling, I suddenly thought of an Enlargent Charm-related issue. I have a colleague who grows so peculiar pumpkins, um, extraordinarily large ones... Do you think continuous consumption of such magically enhanced pumpkins might lead to malnutrition? Or could it harm the soil?

I believe this subject is more suited for Muggle studies or perhaps needs a new na?

...

Enclosed are two political books and a highly recomnded periodical—'The Quibbler,' with a daily circulation of over five hundred copies, definitely worth a read."

After finishing the letter, Felix straightened up and found Valen, seated at the desk, hastily closing its journal, eyeing him warily.

Felix smirked, wondering which unfortunate student Valen had defeated this ti. Unfortunately, he caught sight of two nas—Astoria and a certain Mafalda...

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