A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 270: Speech

Welsh Sidrick led the way ahead, hurrying forward. "We need to hurry. Minister Fudge can't wait much longer."

Felix said, "I didn't know I would have to meet with him."

"It was a last-minute decision. Minister Fudge has a busy schedule every day. Originally, he wouldn't have paid attention to these small matters, but... here we are."

He pushed open a heavy door, revealing an ancient and dignified reception room.

The decor in the reception room was similar to the third reception room Felix had visited before. There were rows of glossy black chairs, and at the front of the room stood a small podium.

"This way," Felix was led under the curtains at the side of the podium, passing through an inconspicuous door, into a more private room.

Fudge was solemnly engrossed in reading a newspaper, a thick stack of clippings beside him. Hearing the sound, he looked up and smiled warmly, "Felix Harp, delighted to meet you."

"Minister Fudge, I believe we've met before. What brings you to me?"

"Ah, of course... when Dolores wrote to me, I realized I had missed an outstanding individual." He patted his protruding belly, and the shiny copper buttons struggled to keep his dark red vest from popping open. "An expert in ancient magical languages, a Muggle studies specialist, and a master of hidden-memory trauma therapy. I must say, I envy you."

Felix understood. It seemed that news of him curing the Lumbatons had finally reached the ears of the Minister, courtesy of Dolores Umbridge.

"Bernie in the Wizengamot Office has already submitted a proposal, now we're waiting for the confirmation from Saint Mungo's. If all goes well, you'll receive a Second-Class Order of Merlin—this is the basic level. The First-Class Order isn't out of the question either."

"Sounds promising," Felix said slowly.

"I need to persuade some people, pull some strings..." Fudge said, his chubby fingers intertwining. "I enjoy making deals."

"Such as?" Felix asked curiously, wondering what plans Fudge had in mind.

"Dolores has run into some trouble, and I want her to take on the role of Deputy Minister. But her qualifications fall short at the moment. She needs an irrefutable achievement, like... capturing Sirius Black, of course, under my guidance." Fudge said, toying with his quill.

Felix patiently replied, "I can't help you catch him. The Ministry has plenty of Aurors and operatives for that."

"Well, what I mean is... if you can convince Dumbledore to have Dolores bring a group into Hogwarts... believe me, it's for the good of the students. Black is an extremely dangerous criminal. He's capable of anything." Fudge said indignantly.

Felix looked at him deeply. "I will consider it, Minister Fudge." Glancing at the time, he continued, "The speech is about to begin. I need a few minutes to prepare."

Fudge clearly hadn't expected such a straightforward refusal. He hesitated, "I await your response. I'll have Dolores contact you."

"I might not have the time in the near future," Felix said. "Perhaps I could arrange a meeting with Dumbledore for you?"

"Or... actually," Fudge hesitated, his voice a bit embarrassed, "It might not be necessary... well, I will talk to Dumbledore."

Exiting the room, Felix shook his head. He couldn't quite tell if Fudge had genuinely stumbled upon his visit or had planned it all along. But from the emotions he sensed through Legilimency, Fudge wasn't one to give up easily.

He couldn't help but wonder: Did Fudge truly place so much trust in Dolores Umbridge? Didn't he know how unpopular she was? Standing at the podium in Reception Room Three, looking out at the sea of people below, Felix suddenly had a thought:

Perhaps it was precisely because of Umbridge's unpopularity that Fudge chose to rely on her. At least in the eyes of outsiders, anything vile she did wouldn't reflect directly on Fudge.

He thought of the relationship between ancient monarchs and their sycophants. How many of the sycophants' deeds were truly inspired by the rulers themselves?

Felix's gaze swept over the audience. He began his speech.

"Some of you may know me or have heard my name, but many might be unsure of my role. So far, I have written three books on Muggles, making me somewhat of an expert in that field." He raised his wand, causing his name to appear in the air.

Felix swiftly moved through the introduction and delved into the topic of the day.

"I assume you're all here today out of pure interest or perhaps willing to gain some fresh insights due to your work..."

"From the guest list, you are likely the group most closely connected to the Muggle world. In a way, you and I are aligned. We are the wizards looking outwards."

"But how many of you truly realize this?"

The crowd murmured, Newt Scamander in the corner watching the cracks in the walls, his ears perking up.

A tall, well-proportioned wizard with sparse stubble on his lips spoke in a rigid, indifferent tone, "Why should we care about these lesser beings?"

"Sir, what's your name?" Felix calmly asked.

"You can call me McNair," he grinned, "Mr. Harp, do you have an issue with what I said?" Chester next to him tugged his arm, but McNair still locked eyes with Felix.

"Lesser beings..." Felix mulled over the phrase. "You need to provide me with a concrete reason, Mr. McNair. You've just expressed your emotions—you've let us know that you despise Muggles very much. But that's not a reason."

McNair's expression changed. He sneered, "Ignorant, powerless, chaotic... do I need to continue?"

"Ah," Felix looked at the others, "Does anyone else share this view? I'd like to see."

No one expressed agreement. On the contrary, many were unhappy with McNair's words. Most of them were half-bloods or wizards with Muggle heritage.

Felix waited quietly for a few seconds, allowing time for contemplation. The air was filled with noise, but no words were discernible, like listening to a tape with its sound washed away.

Finally, Felix spoke, "I will address your question, Mr. McNair, at the end of my speech."

He waved his wand, casting a shimmering silver light that quickly spread like mist throughout the Third Meeting Room. With a gentle flick of his finger, the mist vanished instantly.

Using fragments of blank memories, Felix had managed to conjure the Room of Thought temporarily into reality.

"Today, I'd like to introduce some simple things: clothing, food, shelter, transportation… for non-magical people."

"The 'Secrecy Act' signed in 1682 is an intriguing milestone. Since then, our understanding of the outside world has seemingly been frozen in time. Even as new blood joins the wizarding community every year, this situation hasn't changed much," Felix said, seemingly reflecting.

"But back to the point, clothing in the Middle Ages was rather plain in terms of color and material, mainly black, white, gray, and brown. The materials were primarily linen, wool, and leather. The styles were somewhat akin to the snug wizarding robes we're familiar with. Some nobles and elites of that time would also wear cloaks. Does this sound familiar to you?"

From thin air, figures of people materialized, their faces vague but their clothes distinct. A wizard couldn't resist reaching out to touch, but his fingers went through the apparitions.

"In the centuries that followed, more elements were added: capes, embroidery, patchwork..." Felix explained, and the corresponding clothing styles manifested rapidly. Elaborate and exquisite garments drew the attention of many witches.

"From the 14th to the 17th centuries, people focused on curves, reaching an almost unhealthy extreme with hoop skirts, corsets, and shoes several inches high—" With a flourish of his wand, the images appeared, "later, there were sashes, lace collars, long-buttoned coats, feathered hats, voluminous skirts..."

"And we mustn't forget the smaller details like bows, floral decorations, lace, and so on."

The discussion in the room grew lively.

"In the 18th and 19th centuries, there was a preference for natural simplicity," Felix continued. Architecture styles and interior designs representing various eras appeared one by one; the closer they got to the present, the more sophisticated and enticing they became.

"As for the following periods, there are too many to cover. I'll let you see for yourselves," Felix smiled, giving a nod. He pushed his hand forward, conjuring hundreds and thousands of garments of varying styles. They soared toward the wizards below, causing many to instinctively lean back until they realized these were mere illusions.

"So incredibly lifelike," someone exclaimed in awe.

Felix continued, "Starting from the simplest clothing, we can draw many interesting conclusions: the constant evolution, the ongoing creation of novelty..." he lightly touched on this, not delving too deep. He then changed the topic and posed a question, "Has anyone considered how these clothes are made?"

"Hand-stitched?" someone joked, "Surely not with magic?"

But no one laughed.

Except for Felix, who chuckled, "My new book, 'Magic in the Muggle World,' explains this question in detail. Those interested can take a look. If I were to explain it now, it might take three days and three nights. Let's continue—"

The pace of his speech increased: "Developments in food—" he waved his wand, showcasing various dishes from different eras, becoming more delectable and enticing the closer they were to the present;

"Housing—" a variety of architectural styles and furnishings appeared one by one;

"And transportation—" vehicles on land, sea, and sky emerged.

With the groundwork laid, no one questioned the authenticity of these three aspects, but due to the sudden influx of information, many felt dazed.

After a few minutes, people began to regain their senses.

Felix raised another question, "Why am I talking about all of this, ladies and gentlemen?"

His gaze turned sharp, fixed on each person present. Subconsciously, they looked at Felix, seeking an answer.

"Change. The only thing I want to convey to you is change."

He looked at McNeill, the man with the sparse beard, who seemed lost in thought. Felix addressed him, "Regarding the question you raised, Mr. McNeill—why should we look at the outside world?"

Step by step, Felix approached him, standing before the man.

"Because the world never stops moving forward due to a single person or group. If you fail to perceive this change, terms like ignorance, powerlessness, chaos... they could all be applied to you as well. Do you understand now, Mr. McNeill, following your own logic, can I despise you? Or manipulate you at my whim?"

McNeill's heart turned cold, as if plunged into icy waters. He trembled uncontrollably—this feeling, he'd experienced it decades ago, from the Dark Lord.

Walsch Sidrick had to step forward, whispering, "Mr. Harp, you can't—"

Felix smiled at him, "Mr. Sidrick, this is also a part of the lecture, a carefully prepared example. You see, I haven't even taken out my wand—Mr. McNeill is cooperating with me."

McNeill suddenly realized he could move again. Felix returned his wand, saying, "Keep hold of your wand, it's your greatest pride."

McNeill stood still, if the wand was pride, then what did that make the person who had taken it away? Felix returned to the small podium, preparing to conclude today's lecture.josei

"Just as I said, time always moves forward, and change follows closely behind. This is the trend. Just like waves crashing ashore, the best response is to move forward with them."

A young wizard raised his hand, as if in a classroom, "But Mr. Harp, what should we do?"

An intense emotion surged within Felix; he wanted to vent, to passionately expound, maybe even forcefully implant his thoughts into their minds. But he did nothing, merely calmly stating, "Perhaps this is a question that needs exploring by our generation together."

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