A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 105: Four Professors

Chapter 105: Four Professors

In the heart of the Great Hall, hundreds of candles flickered, their glow casting the ceiling in a velvety blackness, devoid of stars.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood among the Gryffindor crowd, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

"Harry, have you completed your assignment?" Hermione inquired.

"Almost," Harry replied vaguely, truthfully having filled out only a third of the form.

About half a month prior, after their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Hermione had told him that emitting sparks from the tip of his wand was a sign the Disarming Charm was about to succeed. Unable to resist, he had dragged Ron into practicing with him for half an hour in the common room.

Initially unsuccessful, a thoroughly exhausted Ron had suggested he imagine him as Malfoy, or even Snape.

The result was that Harry had successfully cast the Disarming Charm.

Hermione, who had heard about it the next day, was quite envious. "Harry, you're a genius! I dare say no one your age could accomplish that."

Harry, slightly embarrassed, said, "I have a special feeling for this spell."

The young witch retrieved a piece of parchment from her bag. "Let's go over the assessment criteria Professor Harp provided."

Harry stood there sheepishly. "H-Hermione, I haven't had a chance to look..."

...

In the Great Hall,

Ron couldn't help but interject, "Harry's got the Disarming Charm down pat. He succeeds eight or nine times out of ten, unlike me..." He suddenly frowned. "I succeed maybe once or twice out of ten."

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment from her robes, filled to the brim with data. Anxious, she said, "I can perform it, but these, and these, and these standards, I've only just met. What if I wake up one day and suddenly can't do it anymore?"

Neville, who had been listening, humbly turned to Hermione for advice. "Hermione, what if the parchment's full, but I haven't mastered the spell?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment and then suggested, "Have you tried breaking it down into sections?"

"Of course, but I'm failing on about two-thirds of the items..." Neville's round face scrunched up sadly. He said, a touch dejectedly, "I'm just not good at it. Maybe Professor Snape is right."

"Don't be disheartened, Neville. I can help you go through the parts you're struggling with," Hermione offered.

"Th-Thank you, Hermione."

Harry also reassured him, saying, "Neville, we can practice together."

"Yeah, and don't mind Snape's words. You're great in Herbology," Ron chimed in. "Neville, believe in yourself. You're like an uncut gem that will one day shine brilliantly."

To be honest, after surviving the trials of Hogwarts, he was now quick to offer kind words.

Neville's face quickly turned red, and he seemed pleasantly surprised.

Bashfully and haltingly, he said, "I just like taking care of plants. My grandma has so many flowers, and I look after them during the holidays."

"You see, that's your strength," Harry encouraged.

Meanwhile, Felix stood by the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for the professors to arrive.

Professor Flitwick arrived first. He had changed out of his usual wizarding robes and was wearing a well-fitted suit, his hair neatly groomed.

"Felicius, you look splendid today," Felix complimented.

Flitwick was in a good mood. "Thank you, Felix. This is the outfit I wore when I became the Dueling Champion."

The two engaged in casual conversation.

"Felix, have you made any progress with that magic?"

"It's somewhat usable, but honestly, it's quite fragmented. I might even say it's a simplified spell infused with ancient magical concepts..."

"Cough cough! Felix, ancient magic rarely survives in its entirety."

The two discussed the feasibility of re-creating ancient magic. However, without resources, their hands were tied – they had too little information, and the magical world lacked an established research path.

Felix, on the other hand, felt that if he could master a sufficient number of magical inscriptions, one day he would easily be able to reconstruct the magic.

He just wasn't sure how many years it would take.

He had discreetly lowered the priority of this matter, opting to let it unfold naturally.

Soon, Professors McGonagall and Snape arrived together. Perhaps Felix's gaze had been too obvious, as Snape couldn't resist taking a jab at him. "What's going on in that mind of yours, Felix?"

"Nothing much. I just thought you'd be counting the minutes to come over," he replied awkwardly.

With all four professors present, Felix got to business. "My idea is to focus this Dueling class on demonstrations. Each of us will present the most essential aspects of our perspectives on dueling."

"In the subsequent lessons, I'll invite different professors in stages so that you can comprehensively present your ideas," he added.

Flitwick was the first to respond. "Of course, no problem."

The others had no objections either.

So, when the four professors appeared simultaneously in the Great Hall and stepped onto the gilded platform, the young wizards' faces registered shock.

Ron groaned, "What kind of day is it today?"

Excitement erupted below, with hundreds of students buzzing in discussions. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students burst into thunderous applause, welcoming their respective Heads of House.

"How come Professor Sprout isn't here?" a second-year Hufflepuff wizard asked.

"Well, Ernie, Professor Sprout doesn't really care about this..." a senior student explained.

The other three professors shared a knowing look and remained silent, simultaneously looking at Felix.

Stepping forward, Felix cleared his throat and projected his voice, "It's an honor to have Professors McGonagall and Flitwick join us today. They generously offer to showcase further possibilities in dueling. Applaud, young wizards!"

The applause below was deafening, akin to a festive occasion. Even Harry's palms were red from clapping.

"Do you think Snape didn't want to bother?" Ron quipped.

"Though I think you're overthinking it, that's actually a great idea!"

After some initial protest, Professor McGonagall remained on the platform while the other three stepped back.

Flitwick conjured a handkerchief and transformed it into a raised platform. He climbed atop it.

McGonagall's hands were clasped tightly together. With a serious expression, she surveyed the crowd, and gradually, silence descended.

Everyone was curious about what she would say; after all, in their minds, Transfiguration and dueling weren't closely related.

McGonagall cleared her throat and, composedly addressing all the students, began, "Transfiguration is a sophisticated magical discipline, capable of achieving many astounding feats. In this realm, the master of transformations was none other than your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

"That's a twist," Ron muttered. "Don't tell me he defeated Voldemort with Transfiguration."

"Of course not, that requires immense magical power. You lot would find it difficult to accomplish," McGonagall said. "The significance of Transfiguration for you isn't merely about strength; it's about enriching your arsenal."

"The essence of Transfiguration is change, bound only by your imagination."

McGonagall produced her wand, lifted her arm straight, and a chair that had been stacked in a corner flew towards her.

In mid-air, the chair transformed into a large black cat, agile and graceful as it landed on the ground. Directed by McGonagall's wand, the large cat circled around her with swiftness and grace.

In the next second, it leapt into the air, its body swiftly expanding, transforming into a majestic lion with a golden mane that glistened with a delicate shine.

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