A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Owls soared into the azure sky, letters in tow, dwindling into specks and vanishing. Felix had a premonition that this would be a long journey.

In the previous academic year, he'd conversed with Uriah several times, vaguely mentioning his genuine thoughts - seizing media influence, refining regulations, accumulating experiences through trials, wielding significant power for protection, and maintaining ample patience.

The experiences of his new pen pal cautioned him. Rushing could turn the world against you. Though confident he wouldn't fall into Grindelwald's fate, failing to actualize his visions was a failure in itself, let alone plunging the world into turmoil.

If one were to describe Felix's mindset, he pondered a philosophical paradox - the Ship of Theseus.

A ship sailing for centuries, its planks replaced one by one until none were original. Was the final ship still the original Theseus ship or an entirely different one?

  

Many speculations stemmed from this, but Felix cared little for answers. Such questions lacked a universally accepted yardstick; what was new, old, partial, or whole differed for everyone.

His mindset was more pragmatic. Felix knew that if the ship didn't replace rotting planks, it wouldn't withstand centuries of wear and tear. No wonder there'd be no concern for the torment that followed.

Apply the Ship of Theseus to the wizarding realm, and it's the same.

Felix intended to be the person replacing those planks. As for the philosopher keen on dissecting it, Felix sneered inwardly - who cares! The later that person appeared, the better. Only after thoroughly renovating the wizarding ship would people realize: it's different from the beginning?

"I only want to be the snowball roller, saving time and effort... but now I've become a shipwright. And Voldemort? A rodent gnawing planks? Dumbledore, a shipwright laid off for a bad temper?"

As Felix headed to the Ancient Runes classroom, he hummed softly, "I'm a shipwright, skilled and keen." Happily, he walked in, ready to teach seventh-year students.

"The professor seems in a good mood," Cedric whispered.

"Professor, any good news to share?" Lee Jordan blurted out.

"Ah," Felix lazily replied, "there's one. Professor McGonagall invited me for the Student Club assessment. I haven't experienced this before. I think it might be fun."

"Does the school have these?" Lisa Turpin asked in puzzlement. "I remember when I established the 'Loud Voices' club, I just had to fill a form, that was four years ago..."

"How many members in your club?" Cedric asked, puzzled.

"Just me," Lisa replied.

"So, you never applied for a venue?" Cedric took a deep breath.

"No—"

"Got any funding from the school?" Cedric's deep grey eyes pierced her.

Lisa gaped, including Fred and George.

"That's the catch," Cedric summarized in a hushed tone.

"It seems we've missed something, George," Fred slowly grasped.

"Yeah, not a whisper reached us," George grumbled.

"Ahem," Felix cleared his throat. "It's normal not to know. I also had to ask Professor McGonagall. Relevant information is only sent to student groups registered with the Student Council... Anyway, let's start the class. Today, we're learning a set of magical circuits for fireproofing items, like amulets or house construction materials..."

As the bell rang, the twins dashed out of the classroom, ran downstairs, and reached the notice board in the hall, scanning it with wide eyes.

"Nothing up there, as expected," Fred sighed in disappointment.

"Hey," Harry greeted, holding a form, Ron and Hermione trailing beside him, ready for lunch.

Fred and George glared fiercely, startling the trio.

"What do you have there?" Fred asked.

"Uh... a form from Professor McGonagall, something about involvement with the Frontline Observatory, reviews, evaluations, I haven't read it carefully," Harry mumbled.

Fred lunged, snatching Harry's shoulder, while George opened the parchment Harry clenched. Their movements synchronized, nearly throwing Harry off balance.

The paper bore a brief line: "Inviting affiliated student clubs of the Student Council—Frontline Observatory—to participate in professor evaluations. Successful clubs receive venue, equipment, and funding from the school. Please prepare relevant documents in advance."

Below were a list of required materials. Fred skimmed through, apparently involving club objectives, activities, and member rosters.

After reading, Fred sighed heavily.

"George, we can't miss this. It's our only chance to leave the 'Pranksters League' name in the trophy room."

"Pranksters League?" Harry inquired. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Just established," Fred promptly replied.

"When did you both become like Percy?" Ron feigned surprise, circling around them.

Fred wagged a finger. "Oh, little Ronnie, we're not like Percy at all. This is just a step in our grand plan." He whispered, "We're finding every way to leave more traces in school—"

"Yeah," George winked, "we've mapped out the Black Lake, hidden 72 secret treasures, and sneaked into Fitch's office to duplicate our forbidden records from these years..."

Ron gulped, awed.

"Given to Mafalda," George gasped for air.

"To whom?" Harry exclaimed, almost throwing Fred and George off.

"Mafalda," Fred rubbed his shoulder. "I have to admit, our cousin's a genius. She's started a new venture, specializing in writing biographies."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione froze, petrified.

"Imagine," George patted Ron's shoulder, "slipping a biography documenting our glorious history into the library, waiting silently for someone to discover..."

Hermione scoffed, "You're trying to groom more students to carry on your prank legacy."

"You've hit the nail on the head," Fred grinned.

"That's our dream," George nodded.

They left, tapping out.

"Do you know what just occurred to me?" Harry gritted his teeth.

Ron and Hermione stared, "Riddle's diary," Harry bizarrely said, "They know about the Marauder's Map; they'll set up something similar to lead mischievous students to find their hidden treasures..."

After lunch, Felix appeared in the staff room, unsurprisingly finding Professor McGonagall there, engrossed in piles of documents on her impromptu desk.

Another person occupied the room - History of Magic Professor Cuthbert Binns. He appeared asleep, his ghostly form reclined on a transparent armchair, beside the crackling fireplace, emitting soft snores.

McGonagall looked up, adjusting her glasses, "Word's out?"

"Everyone who should know does," Felix pulled a chair and settled. "With those loudmouth students around, this will soon become an open secret. The sign-ups will probably overflow..."

McGonagall barely smiled, pursing her lips, "Will it make a difference?"

Felix shrugged.

"Some action is better than none at all. None of us want to see Slytherin students isolated due to the war. Preventing foreseeable trouble is wise. After my experiment in the Magical Texts Club, it's time to extend it to the school."

"So, you suggest clubs should have members from at least two houses?"

Felix nodded. "I support Hogwarts sorting students into houses; it creates an immediate sense of belonging and competition. But after sorting, cooperation among houses is crucial for unity among the four."

Professor McGonagall smiled openly.

For a while, her keen gaze peered from behind round spectacles at Professor Binns and his reclining armchair. Inattentively, they could appear as one entity: a peculiar ghostly seat, its feet seemingly stretching into the fireplace.

"Can the items in Room 7 be removed?" McGonagall asked softly.

"Students certainly can't. But ghosts are special; remember last Easter when they brought food to the Great Hall? I believe it can be sustained..." Felix didn't pay much attention to the castle's ghostly inhabitants; he cared about two, and they had bravely moved forward.

Since Room 7 was opened to students, several memory entities managed everything inside.

Over the next two days, as Felix anticipated, clubs became the talk of the school. Students scrambled for details and, upon learning the first step – reporting with three members to the student council – they became restless. When someone flaunted their approval letter and assessment form under their noses, the students couldn't resist and sprung into action.

Especially when Ron unknowingly said, "If I start a music appreciation club, can we apply for a magical phonograph?"

That statement caused a stir.

Soon, students put ideas into action. Even more surprisingly, they succeeded, with the student council approving the name. Clubs sprouted up like mushrooms after rain.

Felix knew most clubs would lose interest and dissolve next year. But he was sure some would endure, serving as mini magical text clubs, bridging the four houses.

By using the school's existing system with minor tweaks, Felix was content. He replaced yet another rotting board in his ship.

If time extended, what would Hogwarts become? Felix believed time would brew everything.

The only toil fell upon the two student council presidents. They had to review various absurd clubs, despite easing the standards per McGonagall's hint. Yet, the more absurd ideas startled them.

"The Prankster Alliance? What's that?" The male student council president was baffled.

The female president leaned in, annoyed. "I knew it was those Weasley twins! I caught them digging holes around the school the other day!"

"What should we do?"

"Reject it, of course! Oh well, let them change the name." The female president thought for a moment. "We shouldn't suffer alone; I'll call for some helpers..."

...

Ron and Hermione were summoned, a bit bewildered. Their confusion heightened upon seeing Malfoy. Then, the two council presidents brought over stacks of documents, telling the house prefects, "Each of you handles a section; let's aim to finish the reviews today."

Malfoy frowned, observing the empty-handed council presidents. "What about you?"

"We'll oversee the final check." The male president said confidently.

"Watch out for house names, avoid discriminatory language, and no provocative titles like the Prankster Alliance!" The female president said, itching to reject some.

Once the workload was distributed, the time spent reduced drastically. After a night's frenzy, all reviews finally ended.

By the weekend, a huge parchment hung on the hall's notice board, illuminated by magical lamps in sets of four.

A group of students gathered below.

"It is announced:

All clubs approved by the student council are as follows:

Music Appreciation Society, Muggle Movie Appreciation Club, Snap Explosive Card Club, Magic Puppet Duel Club, Chocolate Frog Card Battles Club, Room 7 Exploration Squad, Guaranteed Crumple-Horned Snorkack Club, Frontline Lookout, Grilled Fish Alliance, Weekly Book Reading Society, Bouncing Dancer Alliance, S.P.E.W...

The above clubs can recruit members in the school hall on the last weekend of this month and participate in professor evaluations on the first weekend of December. Approved members will receive support such as activity space, professor guidance, equipment, and startup funds.

Member Requirements:

1. Minimum of three official members;

2. Must include at least two houses;

3. ..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood under the announcement, reading through sensible and nonsensical club names, trying to decipher their creators.

"Look, the Harry Potter Admirers Club! Dennis, our application got through!"

Harry painfully shut his eyes, his face burning with embarrassment, trying hard to seem indifferent. He glanced quickly around and indeed saw the Creevey brothers cheering, while Ron muttered, "That's a strange name, 'Swear to Uphold School Rules' Club. Who came up with that? If Percy hadn't graduated, I'd think it was him..."

As he spoke, Ron's mouth fell open, Fred and George jubilantly high-fiving.

Additionally, they saw—

"S.P.E.W.?" Harry stared at Hermione dumbfounded.

Hermione looked away sheepishly, blushing. "Well, I thought, if S.P.E.W. becomes a fixed society like Grawp's Club, people will consistently care about house-elf welfare... I promise it won't interfere with Frontline Lookout activities!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance.

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" Ron asked, his face pale.

Harry nodded in understanding. Besides Hermione, the only members of S.P.E.W. were Ron and himself. Thinking about their names being printed under "Vomit," and possibly being publicly read in the Great Hall in two weeks and, more likely, in front of professors a month later, made them feel utterly defeated.

At that moment, Harry's only thought was, whether it was the Harry Potter Admirers Club or the seemingly nonsensical S.P.E.W., please, please don't recruit anyone!

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