A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 217: "As You Wish"

Chapter 217: "As You Wish"

The next morning, as usual, Felix Harp met with Mrs. Longbottom at the entrance of St. Mungo's. He proceeded to treat the Longbottom couple, and as time went on, his skills of piecing together, categorizing, and sorting memories became even more proficient.

At times, he felt like a skilled bookbinder, carefully handling the intricate memories. However, even then, he couldn't guarantee that there would be no omissions or gaps in the process of assembling memories.

Some memories were destined to disappear forever, and he had no way to prevent it. In fact, his job was to construct a stable memory structure and gradually add memories to it in a logical manner. Once this process surpassed a certain limit, human self-healing mechanisms would kick in. As for how long it would take for full recovery, he couldn't assure.

"Madam Mallomar has become suspicious," Mrs. Longbottom said.

Felix Harp replied calmly, "As a stranger who visits every week, some suspicion is normal. But we should be able to deflect it for a while. Whether it's discovered by November or before Christmas doesn't really matter."

Mrs. Longbottom agreed, more concerned with the outcome than the process. When St. Mungo's finally noticed the significant changes, it would signify improvement in their son and daughter-in-law's condition. By then, no one could say a word.

"Moreover," Felix Harp smiled, "my paper is almost finished."

"A paper?"

"Dumbledore's suggestion—an article on restorative memory therapy. I'm planning to split it into two parts. The first part will be theoretical exposition and derivation, not likely to cause much stir. The second part will include the data from this treatment. It will definitely attract significant attention. I intend to release it around Christmas..."

On a muggy day in early October, damp air stealthily permeated the castle, leaving moist traces on the ancient walls. Every morning, cold mist emerged from the heart of the Forbidden Forest, carried by the wind to the school. Silver frost adorned the front lawn, and many young wizards who hadn't been mindful of the chill ended up with colds.

Even Professor Lupin wasn't immune; he had to wrap himself in a thick scarf, and every time he spoke, the scent of Pomfrey's invigorating draught filled the air.

On the same day, Felix Harp received two letters, both related to his upcoming book publications.

In the first letter, Little Red Book Publishing reported "tremendous" news. His new book, "Magic in the Muggle World," had sold over a thousand copies, and for each copy, he would receive three Galleons and seven silver Sickles. The initial earnings would amount to around three thousand four hundred Galleons.

However, the letter also mentioned that the major buyers were various magical ministries and individuals interested in Muggles—due to the reputation established by his previous two books, many people, upon seeing the name "Felix Harp," would immediately choose to buy.

Of course, sales would experience a significant decline afterward, eventually stabilizing.

Felix Harp was realistic; his books earned through a steady trickle, never becoming bestsellers.

The other letter was brought by Dobby. The house-elf stood before him, wearing his customary little suit, now much cleaner, and a brown soft hat.

"Mr. Harp, your book 'The Adventures of Young Wizard Mick' is complete. Mr. Anders sends his regards through me," Dobby respectfully announced.

"Let's sit and discuss," Felix Harp invited, leading him to the office's sofa. He casually opened the letter. The handwriting was messy, perfectly matching Anders' style—

"It's done!

I can't describe how I felt at that moment—it's like crawling out of hell step by step and seeing the first rays of sunlight...

If this book fails, I might be so disheartened that I'll strangle myself. But I doubt that's going to happen, haha!

I've completed the Ministry's paperwork. There were some people trying to trip me up, damn pure-blood rubbish! However, I took Dobby out for a spin, and things worked out fine. I still don't know if someone helped me or if that family backed off.

But anyway, Mr. Harp, you can expect the new book to hit shelves in 27 countries. It's divided into seven volumes, priced at 13 silver Sickles each, or a complete set for six Galleons and six silver Sickles. After deducting costs, we might make about two Galleons—I admit we can't compete with professional books, but once it catches fire, our sales will outstrip them tenfold, I swear in my grandfather's name!

Felix Harp couldn't help but chuckle at Anders' skillful way of slipping in requests. When it came to media friends, he pretty much only knew one Rita Skeeter. How she was faring now, he hadn't really been paying attention.

"Dobby, you'll have to make another trip to this place later. Take this note with you," Felix Harp tore off a piece of parchment and handed it over. The parchment sparkled with sparks, forming an address.

After thinking for a moment, he took out a bag of coins from his pocket. "Here are sixty Galleons. Fifty are for that woman—she'll understand. The remaining ten are for your recent efforts."

Dobby's eyes widened as he seemed to calculate his salary on his fingers. "Dobby shouldn't be taking this much money, too much!" he exclaimed, every hair on his head trembling, as if he might faint at any moment.

Felix Harp said gently, "Your performance deserves this wage, and besides, I'll need you to continue working for me. Your tasks will only increase, not decrease..."

Dobby hesitated for a long while. It wasn't until Felix Harp finished his third cup of tea that he reluctantly agreed.

"Tell me about what's happening with Anders."

"Yes, great and generous Mr. Harp. I'm there every day. Mr. Anders is very diligent, reminding me of the days I used to work. Two weeks ago, he finished all the comic drafts and started organizing manpower for mass printing. Dobby helped too!"

"Did anything unusual happen during this process?" Felix Harp inquired.

Dobby pondered for a moment. "Ah, Dobby remembers! One day, Mr. Anders left the house all dressed up, saying he was heading to the Ministry to register. He returned in a fit not long after. However, he didn't explain the reason. Later, Mr. Anders took Dobby out again and introduced Dobby to some of his friends. About two days later, when Dobby asked him, he said the matter had been resolved."

"Dobby found it strange, but couldn't figure out why."

Felix Harp sighed. "Never mind."

The house-elf cautiously looked at him. "Did Dobby do something wrong?"

"No, Dobby. Now, continue keeping an eye on Anders. If anyone troubles him, remember the person's name and appearance."

"Understood, Mr. Harp!"

"Now, you can go to the address I've given you. Her last name is Skeeter. Oh, she might not recognize you or the Dark Mark emblem on you, so you'll have to mention my name."

"Is delivering the letter all Dobby needs to do?"

"This is a transaction, and though... I don't intend for her to refuse."

Dobby confidently said, "Dobby has done jobs like visiting strangers before." Then, his ears drooped. "It was delivering letters to the Malfoy family..."

"You're free now. Outside of work, you can do anything you want," Felix Harp said.

He comforted the house-elf before seemingly remembering something else. "By the way, I need you to help me with a test." He waved his wand, and a silver-white swallow flew out from the tip. The swallow let out a gentle chirp and landed on Dobby's hat.

"What's this?" Dobby's two slender hands held onto the hat, and his tennis-ball-sized eyes peered upwards, but he could only see a silver-white beak.

"That's my Patronus. Just keep it with you. When the time comes, it will disappear on its own."

"Dobby understands. Dobby will take his leave." With a soft snap of his fingers, he and the Patronus vanished from sight.

Felix Harp's gaze turned distant, and his deep blue eyes reflected various fleeting scenes. After seven or eight minutes, his eyes emitted a strong silver-white light. Simultaneously, in a resolute tone, he said, "Rita, it's been a while..."

Hundreds of kilometers away—

Rita Skeeter once again heard that voice which had always filled her with genuine fear, emanating from a silver-white Patronus. After a moment, she respectfully and slyly responded, "As you wish, sir."

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