A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 171: Nicolas Flamel?

Chapter 171: Nicolas Flamel?

The old man spoke a few words and then took a moment to catch his breath, his nostrils emitting a faint humming sound.

"You don't look too well, yet you've come to join the festivities?" Felix Harp cast a glance at him, tinged with admiration.

"I live nearby, otherwise I wouldn't have come. Can't stand the torment of Apparition," the old man waved his hand, his arm emitting a crisp 'click' sound.

Felix suddenly felt a pang of jealousy, he pouted and instinctively stretched his own arm.

In the distance, a commotion arose as an irritable wizard set off fireworks inside the hotel. His actions triggered a flurry of imitations.

Both of them wore expressions of keen interest.

"Quite amusing, isn't it?" the old man said cheerfully.

"Indeed, I like the pattern of that Thunderbird. I guess it might be from Ilvermorny's Thunderbird House," Felix said, "The one founded by Isolt Sayre and James Steward."

The old man's gaze followed the firework that resembled a hawk and said somewhat nostalgically, "I haven't moved around much in the outside world these years, but now I feel the urge to explore."

"There's always so much novelty outside."

The old man agreed at first, then shook his head, saying, "People may be different, but events tend to repeat themselves."

"Is that so? I tend to believe that everything I experience is unique," Felix replied.

The old man chuckled heartily, "The vigor that belongs exclusively to the young—the habit of defining the world with your own eyes. But as one grows older, rules become more like bonds, embedding oneself into a particular place in the world."

"Rules?"

"Basically, it's a set of self-imposed principles. After experiencing certain things and meeting certain people, you tell yourself what you can or cannot do, and you adhere strictly to that. It's a bit like signing a magical contract, but the recipient is your future self."

"What's the point of that?" Felix inquired.

"I'm not sure," the old man replied, "but it at least keeps my spirits uplifted."

"By restricting oneself?"

"This is the philosophy of survival I've gained from a long life," the old man said.

Felix didn't quite endorse this approach. He disliked being confined and constrained, especially by self-imposed limits.

The old man fumbled through his pockets, and after about half a minute, he pulled out a copper pocket watch.

"Click." The pocket watch opened, one side displaying the time, the other side showcasing a photograph.

The photograph depicted a young couple.

The old man murmured, "She's Perenelle, my wife. We met back at Beauxbatons, both students. A fine young woman, three years my senior. I can still vividly recall the first time I laid eyes on her. It was amidst a sea of flowers, and she stood out..."

Felix blinked, "It's evident that your marriage has been a happy one."

"Yes, indeed..." his voice barely audible.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The distant fireworks display had already been halted by Ministry of Magic personnel.

"Do you think they'll reach an agreement?" Felix changed the subject.

"To be honest, I find it difficult. I've dealt with these people before... The American wizarding world suffered greatly under the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. They won't compromise easily," the old man said, "They're quite stubborn in this regard."

Felix chimed in optimistically, "Someone will eventually compel them to change their minds. If not this time, then the next. Their adversaries are still young."

"You're right. These youngsters have a natural advantage."

...

"I'm about to leave."

After a while, the elderly man said, just before parting, he gave Felix Harp a small gift.

"This is... a Sneakoscope?"

"Yes, indeed, an intriguing little gadget. I've been sending out many gifts these days, perhaps due to my dwindling time," the old man chuckled.

"Wizards can achieve longevity, you know. I know a witch, she should be around a hundred and thirty or forty years old — maybe even more — but her health is still robust," Felix comforted the old man.

He was referring to Professor Griselda Marchbanks from the Wizarding Examinations Authority. She had invigilated Dumbledore's NEWTs examination.

The old man smiled, "Maybe it's not suitable for me... It's been a pleasure chatting with you, Felix Harp."

"You know me?" Felix looked at him in surprise.

"Ha, a friend of mine recommended your book to me. Quite interesting. The magical world needs a pair of eyes that look outward."

The old man waved his hand and left, trembling.

...

Felix returned to the hotel. The previously dilapidated hall and scorch marks had all vanished, the hotel unscathed, as if the attack had never happened.

He noticed a Muggle studies specialist gazing absentmindedly at the statue in front of the hotel — its head had been smashed flat.

Felix encountered no trouble from the staff and smoothly found Maximilien Marchand, the French Minister for Magic. Right now, he was like a guardian at the entrance, flanked by three other French Aurors.

"Are they still inside?"

"More accurately, still arguing," Marchand said.

"Seems pretty quiet."

"Just wait," he said with experience, "Three, two, one... Here it comes!"

A burst of exaggerated roaring came from the hall, "Marcus! As the President of MACUSA, aren't you supposed to be responsible for the actions of your subordinates? Look at the mess they've made! I'm embarrassed for you!

"See, I told you," Marchand gave Felix a satisfied look. "I love the Minister. He's been berating that American fellow for half an hour."

Felix stared at him, somewhat speechless.

After the jest, Marchand got to the point, "The meeting has been canceled. The other participants in the hotel have been informed to leave. This place will serve as the temporary meeting point to discuss the current series of troubles."

"Meaning, I need to pack up and leave?"

"No, no. It's your colleague. She left first and asked me to pass on the message. Lucky fellow, you've gained the friendship of both the French and American magical communities. Although the latter isn't much use... but at least, no one can drive you away. You could even request to observe the entire negotiation process."

Felix guessed that Celestia hadn't mentioned his memory probing. But even if she did, it wasn't a big deal, and he had plenty of reasons to defend himself.

On the surface, he was the hero who prevented the attack, preventing things from spiraling into irreparable disaster. He also saved the life of a current student at Ilvermorny. From this perspective, from the President of MACUSA to the Headmistress of Ilvermorny, they all owed him gratitude.

The French Ministry of Magic was no different. Felix had been invited to the meeting and unfortunately ended up as part of the unfortunate group attacked. However, he single-handedly turned the tide, and he couldn't ask for more.

"Forget about it," Felix declined with a single word. He wasn't interested in this, it was quite chaotic inside, and he was starting to sympathize with Dumbledore.

"What about the students?"

"They're being watched by two professors from Ilvermorny."

...

Felix didn't want to linger, waiting for concrete results could be grinding, and it might not even conclude before the end of the summer. He prepared to go back to his room and pack, there was a pile of matters to attend to at Hogwarts.

But as he was clearing his room, he suddenly thought of something.

"What is it?"

He quickly recollected. He rewound today's experiences from 'now,' starting with his conversation with Marchand, to the Muggle studies specialist in front of the statue, and then the encounter with the intriguing old man...

"Perenelle, I feel like I've heard this name somewhere."

Felix pondered, "No, the focus isn't on that, the name is quite common, but I sense something peculiar."

He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Scenes from his conversation with the old man kept replaying in his mind.

After a while, he suddenly sat up and, in an uncertain tone, said, "Nicolas Flamel?"

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