A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 493: The Last Night of the School Year

Chapter 493: The Last Night of the School Year

Dobby left happily, elated. Ron found the house-elf's ecstatic shrieks a tad unnerving, which sent everyone else packing. With Mr. Weasley visiting Mrs. Weasley, the infirmary was left with only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Felix.

"Professor, this is your ring," Hermione reluctantly said, pulling out a ring from under a pillow. "I hadn't had a chance to open it."

Felix took it, noticing Hermione's expression. He spilled out a pile of magical notes from the ring, nearly engulfing her.

"It was meant for you, Miss Granger. What you need now is extensive reading and practice, finding your own insights. Others' help might not be as fruitful."

Harry took the opportunity to inquire about the protective magic on him.

"That's a field I haven't delved into," Felix shrugged. "I suggest asking Headmaster Dumbledore. He's woven more than one protective spell on you."

While Hermione joyfully stowed the magical notes in a bead bag, Ron, curious, asked, "Professor, how did you resurrect? Also, Hermione used a Time-Turner. Does that mean you arrived earlier, witnessing it all?"

Felix chuckled. "Actually, I had cameras set up around, though I didn't quite catch the specifics... Your screams were quite unsettling; I almost thought something went wrong," he teased Ron.

Ron scratched his head sheepishly but shuddered at the thought of the Cruciatus Curse's dreadful punishment.

"As for resurrection... I've never died. Consider it a form of advanced glamour, but admittedly a bit frightening," Felix explained.

"Oh," Ron sounded disappointed. "I thought—"

"That I could withstand Voldemort's Killing Curse?" Felix smiled, and Ron nodded. "That curse might just be Voldemort's forte. His understanding of it surpasses anyone globally. I'm not keen on experiencing it firsthand..."

"The Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, the Imperius Curse—the reason they're deemed unforgivable is not just due to their uncounterable nature. I believe it's also because their power subtly touches the realm of the soul—"

"The soul?" Ron exclaimed in shock.

"Yes, torment, control, obliteration..." Felix said softly, causing a shiver to run through the trio on the hospital beds. "Though I haven't tried, I suspect these curses work just as effectively on ghosts." Seeing their terrified faces, Felix changed the subject. "However, there are ways to counter the first two curses, intricate memory magic being one. But I tend to believe it's a result of extreme self-will control."

"Do you think willpower can resist the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse?" Hermione asked sharply, finding the notion far-fetched.

"It's firm determination," Felix corrected. "I could cite some examples, like the Longbottoms or Harry's recent experience. But these are circumstantial and rife with interference... Yet, there's substantial evidence suggesting wizards can resist the effects of the Cruciatus Curse."

He tilted his head towards Harry. Harry had previously resisted Barty Crouch Jr.'s Cruciatus Curse while the imposter posed as Professor Moody in class. Harry had confirmed with the real Moody, who regretted not coming up with that idea.

As Felix recommended the Happiness Charm to Harry and Ron, Madam Pomfrey entered. Ignoring their protests, she insisted they each gulp down a large dose of cheering potion. After drinking it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into laughter.

"Madam Pomfrey, they're stronger than you think," Felix told her before leaving the ward.

Outside the Ancient Runes office, he saw Uriah, Byles, and Berni waiting.

They were bidding farewell.

"Mr. Hap, I appreciate our time together. I have an idea—starting a newspaper to promote the Society for Innovation. Would you mind if I include some of our previous discussions...?" Felix had no reason to decline.

...

Harry stayed in the infirmary for a full five days, undergoing various tests with Madam Pomfrey each day, feeling like a lab rat. Hermione recovered first and left the hospital wing, followed by Ron. This made the following days excruciating. After several requests to leave, Madam Pomfrey finally agreed.

But before leaving, she gave Harry a large jar of cheering potion, feeling like all the hospital's supplies were in that one jar. "All three of you have some, one cup a day during this time," she said sternly. If Harry disagreed, she seemed ready to keep him there and monitor until he finished the potion in the jar.

Exiting the hospital wing, Harry didn't know where to go. He felt silly holding onto the jar. He didn't want to return to the common room; during those days in bed, discussions with Ron and Hermione about the implications of Voldemort's return had consumed most of their time. His mind felt numb.

Standing in the corridor, he looked out the window. From his vantage point, he could see Hagrid's hut, Beauxbatons' carriage still there, but the magical creatures statue from the Quidditch pitch was gone. Harry realized the Tournament must've ended, and they should have left Hogwarts...

However, Durmstrang's peculiar sailboat was still docked by the Black Lake. He saw tiny figures moving around, wondering if Krum was in there.

"Hey, Harry," came Neville's voice, "You're out of the hospital. Wow, that must be cheering potion, but yours is way bigger than Ron's bottle. You missed some things while you were in there; the teams from Beauxbatons and Venda Duellum have left."

Harry felt a pang of regret. He hadn't had a chance to thank Nona personally; her talisman had been quite effective. Then there was Byles, whom he considered a friend, but Dumbledore had prohibited others from bothering them. It was inevitable; they were too popular, and the ward was overflowing with baskets of flowers and fruits that Madame Pomfrey had brought.

"...They couldn't see you, so they prepared some farewell gifts, left them in the dorm... Ron's decided to wait for your return before opening them, and it's been tough for him to resist," Neville said, holding back a laugh.

After pondering for a moment, Harry broke into a smile too.

"Hey, why are both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang still here?" he asked.

"Well," Neville scratched his round face, "Beauxbatons' students chose to stay voluntarily. Madame Maxime is still around, and I'm not sure why. But Durmstrang's students got the short end of the stick."

"What happened to them?"

"Durmstrang's Headmaster, Karkaroff, ditched his own students and vanished. No one knows when it happened. Alrik Poliakoff mentioned it was after you guys came back that night; Karkaroff disappeared."

Harry was utterly surprised. A headmaster of a wizarding school scared away by Voldemort, hundreds of kilometers away? It weighed heavily on his heart, as if a stone had been tied to it, dragging it down.

"How will they get back then? They must be terrified."

Surprisingly, Neville grinned.

"Well—truth be told, they seem quite steady. Karkaroff wasn't that well-liked, remember? It's

because of Poliakoff; he demonstrated some Dark Magic during a Dueling lesson, and Karkaroff gave him a good thrashing when they returned."

"But he was defending the school's honor!" Harry exclaimed.

Neville shook his head, finding Karkaroff's actions unreasonable as well.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall hurriedly approached them.

"Potter, come with me. The Headmaster wishes to see you—"

Harry bid Neville farewell, grateful as Neville offered to help him take the Elixir of Joy back to the dormitory. Following Professor McGonagall, Harry found himself at the statue in the headmaster's office. As McGonagall lagged behind, he pushed the door open, almost colliding with Snape. Snape's expression was grim, his face even paler, emitting an aura of coldness.

Without a second glance, Snape flicked his cloak and walked away.

Entering the office, Harry found Dumbledore, hands resting on the desk, gazing into a shallow stone basin – he recognized it as the Pensieve. It was Harry's first encounter with the real Pensieve, though he'd seen similar items at the Ancient Runes Society.

"You must recognize this, Harry," Dumbledore smiled, lifting his gaze.

"Yes, Professor," Harry's heart raced. "Professor Snape made some magical artifacts that mimic Pensieves..."

"Ah, ancient runes are indeed versatile," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "They serve both in ancient magic and crafting magical items. If not for my endless duties lately, I'd certainly have devoted time to studying..."

"So, Harry, perhaps you can guess why I've called for you?" He clasped his fingers, sitting quietly behind the chair, his gaze filled with myriad emotions Harry couldn't decipher.

"Um, I guess—You want to tell me something?" Harry voiced his thoughts honestly.

"Indeed, Voldemort has returned, and Harry, your fate is deeply entwined with his," Dumbledore spoke through half-moon glasses, "I believe—it's time to enlighten you, to address some doubts," he paused, concealing a plethora of emotions, leaving Harry utterly puzzled.

"Well, I suppose... I guess I—You want me to know something?" Harry earnestly shared his thoughts.

"That's right," Dumbledore nodded gently. "Considering the failed Killing Curse that bonded you to Voldemort, in certain situations, you can sense his emotions—"

"So that's why you had Professor Snape teach me Occlumency?" Harry blurted out.

"Exactly," Dumbledore nodded softly. "Considering Voldemort's escalating strength and his seemingly unstoppable return, I fear he might discover this connection and even attempt to control you."

Harry was terrified at the thought. The scar on his forehead throbbed faintly, a minor discomfort compared to the potential consequences. He never imagined his scar would become a conduit for something akin to the Dark Arts.

"But your Occlumency skills are progressing well," Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I merely wanted to highlight the gravest consequences. Moreover, I believe Voldemort will find it challenging to control your body from a distance."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but Dumbledore's earlier request echoed in his mind. An idea emerged, "So, do you believe my visions—um—might reveal something different?"

His disposition swayed again; thus far, his connection with Voldemort had seemed beneficial. Yet, the looming dangers couldn't be overlooked.

"I can't provide a precise answer, Harry," Dumbledore said, "but I have a theory. When you and Voldemort draw closer, this connection strengthens, perhaps revealing some secrets hidden in your memories."

"I agree," Harry nodded, then hesitated, "But I haven't mastered the art of extracting memories. I understand the theory, but I've never attempted it myself—"

"I can assist you in performing the spell," Dumbledore assured. "But there's no rush; let's first explore a few memories together."

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy stared at a letter, lost in thought. It was from his mother, seemingly ordinary at first glance, expressing maternal affection and even listing dinner menus – something rare for his mother.

Draco only realized on his second read that something was amiss; his mother was rarely this verbose.

The Malfoy family had many rules, but it seemed there was only one to address the current situation. Draco mentally recited a series of numbers while sequentially picking out letters from the paper. Soon, his eyes widened. The encoded message conveyed: "Find an opportunity to duel Potter fiercely."

On the eve of departure, The Daily Prophet's front page buzzed with discussions about Hogwarts. Finally stepping out of his office, Fudge swiftly acknowledged the return of the mysterious figure and admitted his unsuitability for leading the wizarding community into a wartime state, voluntarily stepping down as Minister of Magic.

Harry stared at the newspaper, the images of a much older-looking Fudge, worn and thin, surrounded by flashing lights. Alongside the satisfaction, he felt a twinge of pity for him.

Dumbledore stood up to address the audience, confirming the authenticity of Voldemort's resurrection and reiterating the significance of the impending battle, emphasizing the importance of "understanding and unity among wizards" now more than ever.

"Every guest in this hall is welcome back anytime they wish."

Harry scanned the paper, discovering that the new Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones, would take over from the former Minister, Fudge, next week...

Is Sirius with her now?

"...Voldemort's adeptness in creating conflict and hostility is remarkable. We must display an equally unyielding friendship and trust to counter it."

The second edition detailed the Ministry's urgent production of a wartime survival guide, set to be distributed in the coming days via owls to every wizarding family.

Hope it works...

"We're about to face dark and difficult times... Many families will be torn apart, and you'll have to choose between the right path and shortcuts..."

The fourth edition brought bad news – a massive breakout at Azkaban, Dementors and Death Eaters escaping en masse. The good news was the limited casualties. Interim Minister Bones decided to relax restrictions, recruiting Aurors and Hit Wizards.

The pace of war hastened...

"We must thank four individuals, three of them students. I'm referring to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. They've shown tremendous bravery in various aspects, rare courage when facing Voldemort. Their combined courage and intelligence cleverly sought help from Professor Felix Harp and successfully escaped Voldemort's clutches, unveiling Voldemort's schemes."

Dumbledore raised his goblet. Harry scrambled to follow suit, joining Ron and Hermione in the gaze of the hall's varied eyes.

The school year was ending, Harry thought.

But the war was beginning.

>

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