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Chapter 258: The Sudden Attack of Black
Chapter 258: The Sudden Attack of Black
Chapter 258: The Sudden Attack of Black
As Hagrid uttered that name, the air grew still for a moment—
"Who's that?" Harry asked, perplexed. He looked at Ron, who wore an innocent expression, and then at Hermione, who was desperately trying to recall the books she had read.
Finally, they all turned to Hagrid. Uncomfortably, he said, "You should've known, but I switched your textbooks—only for the third years, wanted to try something..." His last sentence was barely audible.
Harry and the others were still puzzled. Hagrid had to continue explaining, his face turning visibly redder by the moment; even his bushy beard couldn't hide it. "Mr. Scamander wrote 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.' Before I took over Care of Magical Creatures, that book had been the textbook at Hogwarts."
With that, the trio understood. No wonder they didn't know about it, because Hagrid had introduced a new textbook this year, and it happened to be only for the third years.
Harry couldn't help but think: Perhaps the creatures in 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' weren't 'interesting' enough, which led Hagrid to consider replacing it with 'Monster Manuals'.
They finished writing their letters in Hagrid's hut, ready to go to the Owlery to send them via Hedwig. Passing the Whomping Willow, Harry suddenly heard a sinister gust of wind behind him. Instinctively, he lowered his head, drew his wand, and glanced upwards, catching sight of the silhouette of a large, black-furred dog leaping high.
Harry's eyes widened in fear—it was an omen of death! He could even see the light eyes and inch-long teeth of the Grim. Before he could react, it had flown past him, turned around, and pounced on Ron, its wide mouth gripping Ron, about to drag him toward the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
"Expelliarmus!"
The intensive summer training and recent dueling practice paid off, as Harry employed one of his most adept spells.
...
Headmaster's Office at Ravenclaw House.
Felix Harp picked up a piece of peanut brittle, observing Professor Flitwick's diligent spellwork. His wand was raised at an angle, left hand assisting, as blue magic continuously took shape, attempting to form a spherical structure.
It wasn't until Felix finished his seventh piece of peanut brittle that the spell still hadn't taken shape. He had to stop, feeling a bit choked.
"It's still not working," Flitwick sighed, waving his hand to dispel the magic. "My understanding of the Shrinking Charm is still rooted in modern magic."
"How did you master those ancient spells then?"
"Through accumulated time. I spent three years to master a defensive spell." Flitwick shook his head. "Actually, my pursuit of this was more out of curiosity than envying its power."
"But I don't think simplifying magic necessarily makes it inferior to ancient magic, especially when I've mastered over a thousand spells."
"A thousand?"
Felix clicked his tongue in awe; he knew quite a lot of spells, but he was nothing compared to the old professor. And this was just from a certain period; he had no idea how many spells Flitwick knew now.
"Spells are like Philemon's Runes?" Felix tried to understand the professor's perspective.
Flitwick waved his wand, making the floor rise into steps. Sitting on the steps opposite Felix, he said, "Among the spells I've mastered, many are practical magic. But in reality, a spell is a spell, and each one reveals the mystery of magic, even if it's minor."
Felix pondered this statement. "Philemon, is my recent lack of progress in magical theory due to this?"
"Progress?" Flitwick said in surprise. "Can you accurately gauge your own progress? Most people improve without realizing it... Every spell cast, every bit of learning, can contribute."
Felix blinked. "So, it's like a sudden enlightenment, as if all the past knowledge has suddenly converged."
Flitwick chuckled, "This kind of state is hard to seek but easy to find. I still remember when I was thirty, I was always vexed about learning so many spells that I couldn't apply. But I truly loved spells. Until one morning, I woke up and my understanding of magic had taken a step forward. Since then, I've never doubted my choice."
Felix could only think of one word: opportune.
Having experienced the Memory Charms of Ravenclaw, the bloodline research of Slytherin, and Dumbledore's Transfiguration, he now realized Flitwick's path of magic. He couldn't help but wonder: Perhaps every professor at Hogwarts was to some extent on a journey of magic?
In his view, the so-called path of magic was a way of perceiving the world—a more straightforward way, it was an instrument to understand magic.
Flitwick used spells to observe and comprehend the architecture of the magical edifice, while he, on the other hand, used magical inscriptions to accomplish this step. In Felix's speculation, if possible, he'd replace all spells with incantations.
Although there seemed to be no hope for that at the moment.
Felix wanted to learn Flitwick's perspective on spells, but at that moment, a silver cat suddenly appeared in the office. It opened its mouth, and Professor McGonagall's anxious voice came out, "Philemon, come quickly to the hospital wing. Suspected Sirius Black attacked Harry Potter."
Felix and Flitwick exchanged astonished glances, then hastened to the hospital wing. Along the way, Felix couldn't help but doubt if this might be a false report?
To ensure Harry's safety, he had deliberately borrowed the Sneakoscope from Harry, enchanted it anew. As long as the Sneakoscope detected any trace of Sirius Black, he would receive a synchronized alert.
But in the current situation, he hadn't received any feedback from the Sneakoscope.
In the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall paced at the door, her hands entwined together. "Oh, you're here." As they approached, they saw Dumbledore deep in conversation with Madam Pomfrey, his expression stern.
Dumbledore insisted, "Poppy, I need five minutes; this is crucial." Madam Pomfrey relented.
Seeing Flitwick and Felix, Dumbledore said in a solemn tone, "Let's go in together."
Inside the ward, Ron lay on the bed, one of his legs suspended, wrapped in bandages. Harry and Hermione sat nearby.
Seeing the professors enter, they all started talking at once.
"Headmaster, it's Black. He's the big black dog—"
"He can turn into a human, no, an animal!"
"Professor, he—he's an Animagus!"
The room suddenly fell silent. Dumbledore spoke softly, "Animagus? Are you saying it's Sirius Black and not someone else?"
"It's him, I definitely didn't mistake it. Ron and Hermione saw it too, didn't you?" Harry turned to seek their support.
"Absolutely!"
"That's right."
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