A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

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

Harry glanced at the notice board, understanding what he meant. There were over a hundred student society names 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 parchment, 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 methods. 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 moment, Hermione emerged from the crowd, beaming.

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

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

Ron remained silent, then, as Hermione rejoined the crowd, he leaned toward Harry. "If it's not because of their prefect authority, it means 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 Dementors — he enjoyed being in positive, cheerful atmospheres. Unfortunately, midway through his research, he ran out of Dementors. 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 some destructive experiments on that Dementor...

As he pondered restocking, he softly asked, "Feeling overwhelmed with part-time 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, "Someone told me the person we can't even name has been feeling down lately. The Ministry Aurors are somewhat disappointed, you know, meaningless overtime 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 immediately; it was a privilege given to him by Voldemort due to his undercover status — he didn't have to respond immediately 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 time 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 memory 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 met Voldemort, the Dark Lord didn't inquire about the relevant questions. Snape had never seen Voldemort so unhinged before; those red eyes seemed hungry for prey.

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

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

Snape felt Voldemort had gone mad. It seemed 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 time.

Approximating the time, he met Voldemort again.

This time, they met at Augustus Rookwood's old house, as the 'loyal' Death Eater was currently in Azkaban, leaving his home 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, vehemently cursing Dumbledore, using every malicious word he could summon.

Then came 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 mentioned 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 members for their clubs.

From Felix's observations, Gryffindor and Slytherin barely interacted, yet both seemed 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 some students had their sights set on him.

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

Felix approached. "Luna?" He looked at her with some 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 members and need me to fill a spot? I mean, it's not a problem, but I'm a professor. I'd recommend Valen—"

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

Felix was somewhat taken aback. "How come I didn't know about this?"

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

It must be some 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 moment'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 immediately 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 me say," Luna replied blankly.

"Oh..." The girls exchanged meaningful glances. It seemed 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 dementor-catching cage to sell to the Ministry, using dementors 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 entertainment 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 government stated plans to modify laws, prohibiting all non-transparent containers, making kettles a rare resource on Mars..."

The response? Lukewarm at best.

Meanwhile, 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 meteor while flying on a broomstick.

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

Valen wasn't interested in the intricate theories in "The Wizarding Word" but enjoyed spotting familiar names. 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) game.

Before bed, Felix remembered to write a letter to his new pen pal living in Numengard 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—enslavement seems the most time-consuming approach to me—especially now, with both sides having nearly tripled their populations.

Speaking of tripling, I suddenly thought of an Enlargement Charm-related issue. I have a colleague who grows some 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 name?

...

Enclosed are two political books and a highly recommended 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 time. Unfortunately, he caught sight of two names—Astoria and a certain Mafalda...

You can access more chapters from HERE by joining my Patreon community. You'll gain exclusive early access to the COMPLETE NOVEL.

As a member of my Patreon community, here is what you'll get:

• Early access to the COMPLETE NOVEL.
• You also get access to all the novels I'm translating, you can find them here HERE.
• You Get Ad-free Chapters.
• Plus, you can Cancel your membership at any time.