A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 179: Harry's Special Training

"Potter, wake up! Potter..."

Harry slowly opened his eyes, the light from the torches was a bit dazzling, making Professor Harp's silhouette somewhat blurry.

For a moment, his expression was quite bewildered.

He got up from the ground, adjusted his glasses, "What happened to me?"

"Exhaustion combined with fatigue, a perfectly normal phenomenon," Felix Harp looked at him and said, "Let's stop here for today. We'll head up and have something to eat, and I'll also work on outlining your training plan."

Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable, limbs weak, and body feeling light.

He followed Felix's footsteps unsteadily as they climbed the stairs, his stomach churning.

It wasn't until he downed a large glass of juice and finished two pastries that he felt like he had come back to life, with the mood to ponder some questions.

"Professor, you said this phenomenon is normal, have you experienced something similar too? And you mentioned to me that the period after a magical outburst is very suitable for practicing spells, based on your personal experience..."

Harry's speech slowed down, and he thought of how Hermione had expressed sympathy to Professor Harp in a very emotional way.

The context was the release of the Dueling Club news, and the discussions were all centered around the word "duel." Professor Harp's 'glorious experiences' were once again brought up and talked about extensively. The boys couldn't help but wish they could swap places with him, while the young witches either looked up to him in admiration or sympathized with the unfair treatment he received during his school years.

And Hermione was one of them.

At the time, Harry couldn't quite understand her perspective, but now, he suddenly had a bit of an insight.

In response to his question, Felix Harp succinctly said, "Indeed..."

Indeed, what? As Harry lay in his own bed, he continued to contemplate this question.

Early the next morning, Harry was awakened by Dobby's knocking on his door. He opened the door drowsily, and the house-elf respectfully handed him toiletries, with Professor Harp standing beside him.

"Hurry up, Potter, we have a heavy task today."

Harry experienced a novel feeling, a similar sensation to when he was a guest at the Burrow and was woken up by Mrs. Weasley. Few adults intervened in his life, reminding him of brushing his teeth, apart from the angry roars of the Dursleys.

The entire morning, they stayed in the basement, and Harry kept casting Disarming Charms, as Professor Harp put it, "We need to maximize your efficiency. You'll find that during your student years, being adept at a single spell can take you far."

He felt like he was going to throw up, but Professor Harp patiently pointed out his mistakes and spent a considerable amount of time explaining advanced techniques for the spell.

"Imagine yourself as a duelist, or a fledgling auror. Your magic is very active, you can sense it, manipulate it, control it, and let the magic flow out all at once," Felix said, and then cast a spell of heightened sensation on Harry.

"At the same time, it's a good opportunity to learn nonverbal spellcasting while learning the Disarming Charm."

"And there's the magical theory part. I'll only explain what's most relevant to the Disarming Charm. It might not be useful for learning other spells, but we need to expedite the process. I want to see how far you can go."

Harry noticed that while in the basement, Professor Harp always seemed distant and reserved. He would wake him up repeatedly when he collapsed on the floor, not wasting even a second. But between training sessions, he would take him to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor or stand outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, gazing at the latest Firebolt models.

Of course, Harry guessed that Professor Harp wasn't really thinking about broomsticks during those moments, because one time, after drifting off for two minutes, he asked himself while demonstrating the Disarming Charm, "Doesn't it feel exhilarating? Like you were born to know this spell."

His response had been somewhat hasty at the time, he couldn't remember if he said, "Somewhat similar," or rather immodestly, "Exactly like that."

They also ran into Neville Longbottom, one of his classmates, a round-faced, forgetful boy. He was with his grandmother, who looked quite formidable, carrying a red handbag and sternly scolding Neville.

Harry wanted to flee, because once when he was on the Knight Bus, he used Neville's name without permission, hoping Neville's grandmother would never find out.

But Neville spotted Harry and waved excitedly, "Harry, Harry! It's so great to see you. I've lost my book list."

Harry quickly borrowed a piece of parchment from Professor Harp and wrote down the titles of the new textbooks.

"Ah, you're Harry Potter, right? Neville has mentioned you to me, a good lad, quite talented. He said you taught him the Disarming Charm, that you picked it up quickly, unlike him..." Neville's grandmother clutched her handbag tightly, her eyebrows furrowing, "This boy didn't inherit his parents' talents, I've been anxious about him ever since he received his acceptance letter."

Neville wore a grim expression, sneakily glancing at Harry. Harry didn't dare to say anything. The old woman was quite intimidating, but what surprised him was that Professor Harp, who had been quiet all along, spoke up, "Neville Longbottom, I saw your name on the class list. I'm glad you chose my course."

"You're a professor at Hogwarts?" Neville's grandmother asked.

"Felix Harp. I teach Ancient Magical Texts, madam."

"I've heard of your name, Mr. Harp, and I greatly admire your courage. Not everyone dares to face a despicable pure-blood family," she proudly pointed at Neville, "Just like his parents, who stood on the frontlines against Voldemort's reign during the war era, even though they were tortured by some scum..."

She wiped her eyes and left with Neville.

Neville mouthed to Harry: See you on the train. Soon after, he was dragged away.

"What happened to Neville's parents?" Harry asked, watching Neville's retreating figure.

Felix answered, "I'm not entirely sure, but they likely sacrificed themselves in battle against Death Eaters."

...

A week passed in the blink of an eye. Professor Harp showed him a stack of thick forms.

"Are these all the records of my practicing the Disarming Charm?" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the hefty parchment.

"No need to be astonished. Let me tell you a secret: I've been quite successful in the Muggle world, and this is what I used!" Felix joked.

Harry looked at the curves on the chart. Progress wasn't striking when considering ten castings as a unit, but if measured in hundreds of castings, his improvement was quite astonishing.

"Isn't it intriguing? No one has ever researched this before," Felix said in an upbeat tone.

"Professor Harp, does my Disarming Charm reach the fourth level?" Harry looked at the annotations on the parchment, his eyes widening. It seemed to be the level achieved by Aurors after a few years of work.

"Ah, you remember the categorizations?" Felix said, "To some extent, yes, you've indeed met that requirement. You can manipulate the power of the Disarming Charm skillfully, performing finer actions like tracing an arc, casting nonverbally, and so on..."

Harry felt as if he had consumed ten strawberry ice creams in a row, a sense of satisfaction overflowing from head to toe. But Professor Harp quickly poured a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm—

"There's only this one spell, Potter. If you want to delve deeper into the realm of dueling, you should consider establishing your personal fighting style."

"Fighting style?"

"Such as which spell to make your core—"

"Disarming Charm!" Harry blurted out without hesitation.

"...Don't make a hasty decision. Besides that, there are complementary spell systems. For instance, which spells you use for defense, which for offense; which are for restraining opponents, and which are for handling tricky situations. You need to think all of these through."

"Not to mention combat footwork, on-the-spot judgment, scenario rehearsal, and so forth."

"Of course, there's also targeted knowledge. Hmm, I might have set my expectations too high for you. This has already exceeded the norm for most Aurors."

Harry excitedly jotted down in his notebook, "No problem, you can make it as comprehensive as possible." He then, with a touch of Hermione's tone, added, "Professor, I'm actually considering writing a related thesis!"

"...Very well, I'll read it."

In the days leading up to the start of term, Professor Harp didn't have him continue practicing the Disarming Charm—this relieved him, and he finally got to learn a second spell.

"Potter—"

"Professor, you can call me Harry," Harry said with a hint of nervousness. He had practiced saying this in front of the mirror several times that morning just to be able to say it now.

There was silence from the other side. Just as he was beginning to regret his impulsiveness, Felix said, "Alright, Harry, I'll call you that privately."

"Your progress with the Disarming Charm won't make rapid leaps in a short time. Even with my comprehensive assistance, it's not feasible—"

"Professor, I'm already quite satisfied," Harry said contentedly. He had undergone a tremendous transformation; at the very least, he believed facing Malfoy and his two cronies wouldn't be an issue.

He saw Professor Harp smile at him, "I've also obtained the data I wanted, and the activity level of your magic is gradually returning to normal. Although I've tried my best to extend this process, unfortunately, I can't go against the laws of nature."

"In the next day or two, we'll intensively learn some spells. The effects will be three to five times faster than your usual pace."

Harry nodded eagerly.

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