《Harry Potter: Bring fairytales to Hogwarts》 Chapter 1: I am here to apply for the position of Professor of Divination
The Summer of 1991, Hogwarts Great Hall Professor McGonagall sat alongside Professors Dumbledore and Snape, forming a panel in the transformed Great Hall. This trio served as interviewers for Hogwarts¡¯ annual recruitment drive. Thanks to its attractive benefits, Hogwarts often saw a substantial turnout of wizards eager to apply for teaching positions at this time of year. Yet, after seeing off another applicant, Professor McGonagall let out a deep sigh. She turned to Albus Dumbledore, whose flowing white beard lent him an air of wisdom. ¡°Albus, that was the twentieth applicant, yet not a single one is interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. If this continues, we won¡¯t just be short this year¡¯s professor; it¡¯s likely we won¡¯t have one for next year or even the year after!¡± ¡°That¡¯s precisely why no one applies,¡± Snape remarked coldly. ¡°Everyone knows they¡¯d have to hire someone again next year or the year after.¡± The truth was undeniable. The curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor¡¯s post was well-known across the wizarding world. No one had ever held the position for more than a year without misfortune befalling them. After several senior wizards either disappeared or suffered grievous injuries while occupying the role, the job had become infamous. It wasn¡¯t just hiring a professor¡ªit was practically offering them up as a sacrificial lamb. ¡°I¡¯ll keep searching,¡± Dumbledore sighed as well. Among the applications he had received, only the former Muggle Studies professor, Quirrell, had requested a transfer. However, Quirrell had been acting rather peculiar lately. The weather outside Hogwarts that day was gloomy, with light drizzle blurring the view through tall windows. The air was cold and gray, but the hall¡¯s interior remained warm, thanks to rows of ornate silver candlesticks holding ever-burning yellow flames. The cozy atmosphere lifted McGonagall¡¯s spirits slightly. ¡°Next,¡± she called toward the doors. Soon, the heavy doors of the Great Hall creaked open, and the next applicant entered. Thud. Thud. The sound of steady footsteps echoed before the figure became visible¡ªa tall, thin young wizard draped in a fitted black cloak. He bore a striking resemblance to a younger Severus Snape but carried an even darker aura. The first thing McGonagall noticed was his black pointed hat, which obscured most of his pale face. Beneath the hat, his stark white skin contrasted sharply with his dark hair, giving him a ghostly appearance.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! When he raised his head, his black eyes¡ªso deeply set they resembled voids¡ªmet hers. It felt like being stared at by a pair of black holes. If ghost stories had a visual archetype, it would surely resemble this man. Yet, as McGonagall observed him, a thought struck her¡ªperhaps they had found their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after all. Even Dumbledore paused in his habitual beard-stroking, his expression brightening. He picked up one of the resumes from the table. ¡°Mr. Victor Vanderboom, is it?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± the young man answered, his black eyes briefly scrutinizing Dumbledore before moving to the chair set at the hall¡¯s center for interviewees. McGonagall glanced over his resume. ¡°I see from your records that you were apprenticed in the Far East, but never attended a formal magical academy?¡± ¡°Yes. The town I was born in was too remote, far outside the reach of any academy¡¯s recruitment. Its residents feared anything outside their perception of ¡®normal,¡¯ so I had to leave.¡± ¡°But during my departure, I encountered Baba Yaga. She kindly took me as her apprentice, and I studied magic under her tutelage for seven years.¡± ¡°Baba Yaga¡­ that sounds like a Slavic name,¡± McGonagall murmured. She scanned the resume¡¯s ¡°Magical Skills¡± section and frowned. ¡°So you learned divination and necromancy from her? Defense Against the Dark Arts isn¡¯t your specialty?¡± ¡°I have dabbled in all forms of magic,¡± Victor replied softly. Throughout the conversation, his expression remained unnervingly still. He spoke without any change in tone or movement in his facial muscles, which unsettled the professors. His demeanor reminded them of an Inferius¡ªa dark, lifeless magical creature. But with the Defense Against the Dark Arts position hanging unfilled, they had little choice. Besides, even if he turned out to be another Quirrell, Dumbledore believed no significant harm would come from it. Dumbledore stood up with a kind smile and handed Victor a form titled ¡°Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Onboarding Form.¡± ¡°Excellent, Mr. Vanderboom. We have reviewed your credentials. All we need is some proof of your proficiency in defensive magic¡ªeither documents or a live demonstration¡ªand you can report to Hogwarts in two weeks.¡± Victor did not take the form. Instead, he narrowed his dark eyes at Dumbledore, suspicion flickering in his gaze. ¡°¡­Actually, I¡¯m not here to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.¡± ¡°What?¡± McGonagall exclaimed. ¡°I wish to apply for the Divination post.¡± McGonagall stared at him in shock. ¡°Mr. Vanderboom, the Divination position is not vacant. Professor Trelawney has held it for over a decade, and we have no plans to replace her.¡± ¡°It will be vacant soon,¡± Victor said with eerie certainty. ¡°When the seventh chime strikes at midnight, Sybill Trelawney¡¯s fingers will accidentally brush against a thorn of poison ivy, casting her into a deep slumber.¡± The three professors froze. McGonagall frowned deeply, and Dumbledore¡¯s expression grew serious, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Victor. Snape was the first to break the silence. ¡°Is this a curse?¡± he asked icily. ¡°Quite the opposite.¡± Victor¡¯s tone remained calm. ¡°Two years later, when a comet streaks across the sky, she will awaken. From that day forth, during every solar eclipse, she will make a prophecy. Each prophecy will always be half-true and half-false.¡± ¡°Preposterous!¡± Snape snapped, glaring at Victor as if he were mad. In all his years, he had never heard of such nonsense. What kind of curse or poison ivy could grant prophetic abilities? Victor simply shook his head. Rising to his feet, he said, ¡°You may reconsider. I will be waiting in three days at the thirteenth shop on Charing Cross Road.¡±
Chapter 2: Baba Yaga
When Victor left the interview hall, he didn¡¯t receive a particularly warm farewell¡ªjust a curt ¡°We¡¯ll consider it¡± from Professor McGonagall. Still, that was better than the alternative. Others in his place might have been sent straight to the Ministry of Magic for what he¡¯d just done. The wizarding world has no shortage of bizarre curses, making most witches and wizards overly cautious. Even if they didn¡¯t recognize a particular curse, they¡¯d rather err on the side of reporting it to the "Department of Curses and Counter-Curses" than risk letting it slide. Only because Dumbledore himself was the foremost authority on curses did Hogwarts let Victor off the hook. But Victor wasn¡¯t afraid of anyone, to begin with¡ªbecause what he had done wasn¡¯t a curse at all. As Victor stepped out of Hogwarts, the first cool breeze of the evening brushing past him, he reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a peculiar little mirror. The mirror had an antiquated design on its back, engraved in a dull silver metal, while its surface was cloudy and indistinct. Strangely, no reflection of Victor¡¯s face appeared in it, even as he held it up. ¡°Mirror, mirror, tell me...¡± he murmured in a low, distant voice, as if it came from far away. ¡°Where can I find Baba Yaga¡¯s house?¡± Victor often referred to Baba Yaga affectionately as "Granny Yaga," finding it more convenient. After a brief pause, a faint, distorted voice spoke from within the mirror. ¡°...Beyond the lightless city, past the ever-present fog, a wooden hut wanders eternally. Swans bow their long necks, and even elk dare not call out in its presence.¡± ¡°It hasn¡¯t changed,¡± Victor muttered. He left the Hogwarts castle, stepping into a light drizzle as he walked farther and farther away. His figure grew fainter, more indistinct, as if slowly being erased¡ªuntil, at last, he disappeared entirely from the sight of all witches and wizards. ¡°Thump, thump.¡± When Victor¡¯s figure reappeared, he was already in another place. A dense forest stretched endlessly around him. Towering trees reached skyward, their black, leafless branches twisting like claws. Thick fog blanketed the area, tinting everything in shades of gray. The path a dozen feet ahead was entirely obscured. A heavy, muffled sound echoed intermittently from deep within the fog. ¡°Thump, thump¡­¡± The sound was both ominous and solemn, as if something massive were stomping on the ground¡ªa noise sure to send chills down the spine of any lost traveler. But Victor was long accustomed to it. He tucked the mirror back into his cloak pocket and began making his way deeper into the forest, moving deliberately, always veering slightly to the right, as if tracing a spiraling path. Eventually, he came upon a massive, dirt-encrusted chicken leg. Each toe of the chicken leg was as thick as a grown man¡¯s waist, and the entire limb, including its thigh, was a vibrant orange-yellow, caked with mud. The skin twitched faintly as Victor approached, tightening and relaxing with the movement of unseen muscles. Looking up, Victor could make out the vague silhouette of the structure above, hidden in the swirling fog. The heavy thumping noise came from the chicken leg as it walked. But as Victor drew closer, the giant leg came to a stop. Soon after, a faint rustling sounded from above. Moments later, a narrow rope ladder uncoiled, dropping down to land right in front of Victor. Without a word, Victor grabbed the ladder and began to climb. He climbed higher and higher until he reached the height of the treetops. There, a small, warm, yellow-lit door finally came into view. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The door faced the ground, and the ladder had been thrown out from within. At the top of the ladder, Victor flipped through the door, entering a cozy wooden hut. One side of the hut had a built-in fireplace, while an old, patched-up sofa sat on the other side. A hunched figure was curled up on the sofa. ¡°...You¡¯re back?¡± the figure rasped in a hoarse, elderly voice. ¡°I am,¡± Victor replied, standing to his full height and flicking his fingers. The rope ladder automatically retracted back into the hut. ¡°I stopped by that magic academy nearby. They¡¯re hiring. Just so happened a witch was praying by the window, wishing for true prophetic powers, so I granted her wish.¡± ¡°In a few days, I should be able to take her place and teach at that academy.¡± ¡°Whatever works,¡± the old woman said slowly. ¡°As long as you can get close to children. That way, you¡¯ll have plenty of wishes to trade for, and you can even buy some human trinkets with their money.¡± ¡°Exactly. Perhaps one or two might even be willing to learn a thing or two from you.¡± ¡°Me? I don¡¯t need it anymore,¡± the old woman replied. As they conversed, Victor approached the fireplace, shutting the narrow door behind him. Only then did he get a clear look at the old woman¡¯s face. It was a twisted, aged face. Baba Yaga was hideously ugly. Her face was riddled with massive lumps that squeezed one of her eyes almost shut and distorted her wrinkled nose. When she spoke, the few teeth she still had wobbled precariously. She wore a shabby gray-pink robe, patched in several places. She let out a hoarse laugh. ¡°Look, I only have a few lumps left on my face. Just two or three more children, and they¡¯ll disappear completely. I¡¯ll be normal again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m in no rush. What¡¯s meant to happen will happen. But you should work a little harder.¡± ¡°I suppose so,¡± Victor said nonchalantly, warming himself by the fire. The flames in the fireplace were an unusual blue, radiating a coolness that dispelled the summer heat. Victor and Baba Yaga were not ordinary witches or wizards¡ªbarely even human. According to Victor, they had fled from another fairy-tale world to this one, gaining unique powers by adhering to certain "rules of logic." Only by fulfilling these rules could they become more ¡°normal.¡± For Baba Yaga, this meant fulfilling her desire for children, which gradually diminished the lumps on her face. For Victor, it required receiving high-quality ¡°requests for deals.¡± These deals resembled the type of bargains found in fairy tales¡ªlike the one where the Little Mermaid traded her voice for human legs, only to risk turning into sea foam if she couldn¡¯t win the prince¡¯s love. Victor¡¯s deals operated similarly. The more trades he made, the more normal his appearance became¡ªand the more powerful he grew. Hogwarts was his latest venture in search of such trades. He believed it held immense potential. Of course, not every wizard could afford the price. Those with low magical ability were less useful, while stronger wizards offered far more power. This had made Victor a constant headache for the Church¡¯s magical incident control division, which had worked tirelessly to get rid of him. At one point, he had caused 70% of all magical disruptions in an entire region. Fortunately, Victor had eventually decided to do some good for the fairy-tale world¡¯s peace and order. And so, he¡¯d relocated. As Victor warmed himself by the fire, Baba Yaga suddenly said, ¡°Oh, I almost forgot. I¡¯ve already taken in a child.¡± Chapter 3: Harry Potters Adventure Day "Picked up another one?" Victor turned his head toward her. "Boy or girl? How did they end up here?" Baba Yaga, curled up on her worn-out sofa, her usually grotesque face softened, replied slowly: "It''s a boy. Looks just like an ordinary boy, messy hair and all. But I heard he¡¯s adopted. His aunt and uncle treated him poorly, bullied him, even beat him. That¡¯s why he ran away." "He almost got knocked over near the house, and I only noticed him when I heard him cry out. He¡¯d been wandering the forest the whole night before that." "He¡¯s probably still asleep in the room upstairs." Baba Yaga''s house was a wooden hut perched on giant chicken legs, with a small platform on top used as a garden where Victor grew peculiar flowers. Since Baba Yaga had a habit of taking in children, she always kept two empty rooms on the second floor just in case. Victor glanced toward the dark staircase leading to the second floor. Unlike the muddy chicken legs outside, the interior of the house was surprisingly clean and tidy. In the corners were two pots of deep-blue nightshade flowers Victor had planted as decoration. However, the perpetual mist surrounding the house made the rooms dimly lit at all times. "Alright. Let¡¯s wait until he wakes up tomorrow morning, and I¡¯ll ask him what happened," Victor said. "But the British Ministry of Magic keeps a tight watch. Only magical children can find their way to our house, so chances are, they¡¯ve been searching for him outside for quite some time. We¡¯ll have to send him back as soon as possible." Baba Yaga looked genuinely distressed, her concern etched deeply into her expression. "Do we really have to send him back? Couldn¡¯t we, like with Vasilisa, punish his guardians for their cruelty and keep him here?" "No," Victor replied firmly. "The British Ministry has a comprehensive adoption system. We need to first figure out his situation and follow the proper procedures." "Fine," Baba Yaga said, dejected. For Harry Potter, today was an unimaginably bizarre day. Yesterday morning, his Uncle Vernon had yelled at him, and then Dudley and his gang had chased him down. Harry fled Number 4, Privet Drive. While running, it had started raining. The streets blurred in front of him, and the next thing he knew, he found himself in a misty forest. It made no sense. Harry had lived near Privet Drive for nearly ten years and had never heard of a forest nearby. No matter which way he turned, he couldn¡¯t find a way out. Eventually, he stumbled across a house with chicken legs walking through the woods. "¡­This must be a dream," Harry thought to himself when he regained consciousness. But the rhythmic sound in his ears persisted: Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Creak. The sound of footsteps, wood creaking, and distant muffled voices seeped through the door. Harry opened his eyes cautiously, his green eyes meeting the clean wooden ceiling above. This wasn¡¯t the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys¡¯. The Dursleys¡¯ house, with its decades of wear, definitely didn¡¯t have such a spotless ceiling. Harry sat up, feeling the soft, plush bed and blankets beneath him. He realized he was in an entirely different place. The room was small but cozy, with thick carpets covering the floor, their woven patterns finely detailed. Though it was summer, the room was pleasantly cool. It had only a bed by the window, a small side table with a vase holding delicate white flowers, and an old-fashioned lamp. The room was dim, and Harry couldn¡¯t find any matches to light the lamp. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Where was he? The window outside revealed nothing but gray mist. Memory slowly returned to him. Yes, he had been taken in by an odd-looking old woman and brought to this chicken-legged house. She¡¯d given him bread and milk before putting him to bed in this room. Who was that old woman? Why did the house have chicken legs? Harry didn¡¯t know. To find answers, he would have to leave the room. But he had a strange feeling¡ª This wasn¡¯t like the stories where someone falls down a rabbit hole and stumbles into a magical world. Harry sat for a while, taking in his surroundings, then stood and moved to the room¡¯s single door. Carefully, he pushed it open a crack and peered out. Outside was a clean but dim corridor, with warm light glowing faintly at the far end. Voices were coming from there. "¡­The headmaster¡¯s name is Dumbledore, supposedly the most powerful wizard in Britain. I met him once, and he lives up to his reputation¡­" The speaker had a low, distant voice. "He¡¯ll probably believe your story. After all, it was the witch who suggested this idea, and the position is rightfully yours¡­" The coarse, raspy voice was familiar¡ªit belonged to the old woman who had brought Harry in. Though she looked frightening and appeared unexpectedly, Harry wasn¡¯t afraid of her. She reminded him of Mrs. Figg, his kindly old neighbor. Unlike Mrs. Figg¡¯s cabbage-scented house, this house smelled clean and fresh. Harry crept toward the source of the light. As he reached a staircase with beautifully crafted wooden railings, he saw the other speaker¡ªa man he hadn¡¯t seen earlier. The man¡¯s deep, piercing eyes landed on Harry, who froze instinctively. "¡­You¡¯re awake," the man said, his voice flat. "I¡¯m Victor Vanderboom. I live here. Come have breakfast, kid. After you eat, I¡¯ll take you home." "Come here, child!" Baba Yaga called warmly. "I made fresh cookies with nightshade powder. You¡¯ll love them! And for breakfast, we have pumpkin pancakes and oatmeal." Harry¡¯s stomach growled at the sight of the food on the table. "Thank you," Harry said as he sat down, following Baba Yaga¡¯s guidance to the seat nearest the fireplace. The chair was high and ornately carved. Based on his experiences at the Dursleys¡¯, Harry guessed this chair alone must cost a fortune. This family seemed well-off¡ªif only their house didn¡¯t have legs. They wanted to send him back? So, he hadn¡¯t fallen into a magical world? He was still in Britain? "Mr. Vanderboom," Harry hesitated before pronouncing the name correctly. "You said you¡¯d send me back?" "Where is this place? I live on Privet Drive. I don¡¯t know how I ended up here. Maybe my memory¡¯s fuzzy, but I recall running into a forest and seeing a house with chicken legs." His words sounded absurd even to himself. To his surprise, neither of them reacted oddly. "You didn¡¯t misremember," Victor said, slicing a piece of garlic bread. "The house does have chicken legs. That¡¯s Baba Yaga¡¯s magic." "Once you¡¯ve eaten, I¡¯ll send you home. It might take a while, though¡ªI¡¯m still figuring out how to connect our fireplace to the Floo Network." "By the way, which wizard settlement is Privet Drive part of?" Wizard settlement? Magic? Floo Network? Harry¡¯s head spun with unfamiliar terms. One thing was clear¡ª He really had ended up in a magical house. Chapter 4: Vasilisas Doll "Um... I think Privet Drive is... it''s in the direction close to London," Harry muttered hesitantly, feeling nervous that his non-magical identity might be uncovered. The people in this house were all peculiar, and living in a place surrounded by mist reminded Harry of the fairy tales he had read. In those stories, witches and wizards with magic were not portrayed as good people. While they were chatting, Grandma Yaga placed a plate in front of him, filled it with some stewed beef, freshly sliced garlic bread, and a few pieces of delicate, freshly baked cookies. "Thank you," Harry said once again, feeling guilty for his earlier thoughts. Beside him, Victor''s dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking confused. "London? The Muggle settlement?" "...I told you this child isn¡¯t from the wizarding side," Grandma Yaga said as she set the plate down. "He mentioned his cousin bullying him with his fists¡ªwhat wizard would use such a crude method?" "Tsk, that complicates things," Victor shook his head. "I¡¯ve never been over there. How do you find your way around that place? I heard wizards say something about... road pathways?" "Subways," Grandma Yaga corrected. "Fine, subways," Victor said, looking dissatisfied. "But I¡¯ve never been. Never mind, we¡¯ll take him to the Ministry of Magic and ask there. Who knows what the magical schools here are thinking, letting a magical child live this long in a Muggle settlement without supervision." After speaking, he moved his fingers again. A spoon floated up in front of Harry¡¯s eyes, scooped up a ladle of soup from the right-side plate, and poured some into each of the three plates. Harry stared, wide-eyed, watching the spoon perform its task. "...You might be mistaken. I don¡¯t have magic," Harry said dejectedly. "Impossible," Victor interrupted carelessly, without explaining why. After finishing this, he lowered his hand, commanding all the utensils to float back to their places, then picked up his own meal. "...Alright, let¡¯s eat." The three of them were seated at three sides of a square table. Harry sat to Victor''s left, Grandma Yaga to his right, in front of a delicate ceramic plate resting on the corner of the checkered tablecloth. Questions erupted like fireworks in Harry¡¯s mind, but he couldn¡¯t decide which one to ask first. Eventually, he decided not to ask any of them¡ªVictor didn¡¯t seem inclined to answer. He could only start eating. When he took his first bite of the oatmeal porridge with beef, Harry couldn¡¯t help but open his appetite, feeling as if he might even devour his fingers. The beef was tender, the broth perfectly seasoned, and he had never tasted anything so delicious. At the Dursleys'', getting an entire slice of bacon in a day was a luxury. Nor had he ever lived in a house this nice or slept in a bed as comfortable as the one he had woken up in earlier.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it As he ate, Harry felt everything about this place was so wonderful it seemed unreal, as if he were dreaming. But even as he ate, he couldn¡¯t help thinking about magic. Magic¡ªcould he learn magic too? Would he be able to make a house grow chicken legs? He glanced at Victor, who was directing bread even while eating, then at Grandma Yaga, old and mysterious, and felt he was nothing like them. But as he turned to observe other things, he suddenly noticed a peculiar doll on a nearby bookshelf. It was a doll with braided hair, sitting on a classic wooden shelf surrounded by thick books. Its button eyes were intricate, and it wore a finely stitched little dress. Yet, for some reason, seeing it sent a chill down Harry¡¯s spine, an inexplicable sense of dread. He then realized the doll¡¯s hair seemed to be made from real human hair. The hair was brown, with slightly split ends at the bottom¡ªno wig could look that real! ...No, he couldn¡¯t keep staring at someone else¡¯s things. That would be impolite. Although curious, Harry forced himself to divert his attention from the doll and lowered his gaze to the breakfast on his plate. He picked up his fork. But before he could resume eating, he suddenly felt something touch his ankle. Harry quickly looked down and found that the spot where the bookshelf had been was now empty¡ªthe doll had somehow appeared at his feet, looking up at him with its button eyes fixed intently on his face! Harry: !! From this close, he could clearly see the stitching on the button eyes. The doll, though aged¡ªits white dress slightly yellowed at the edges¡ªwas impeccably clean. Its lifelike appearance made Harry feel as though he were looking at a real little person. That only made it more terrifying. What¡¯s more... a normal doll couldn¡¯t just appear at someone¡¯s feet out of nowhere! At that moment, a sharp, eerie female voice came to his ears, soft and melodic: ¡°Jerry small, oh so small, A mouse could swallow him whole, From his hat down to his toes...¡± The voice was thin and strange, with a slight tune. After finishing the unsettling rhyme, it let out a sharp, eerie laugh. "Ah!" Harry shuddered violently, leaning back hard in his chair and quickly pulling his foot away. The table shook with his movement, immediately drawing puzzled looks from the two adults nearby. "What¡¯s wrong?" Grandma Yaga raised her head from her plate, looking at Harry with concern. It was then Harry noticed she was eating a peculiar, individual dish¡ªa sticky, red substance with bones sticking out. Her face and mouth were already stained red, and as she spoke, he glimpsed the mushy red and white mixture in her mouth. ¡°Crunch, crunch.¡± With each bite, a bone-snapping sound came from Grandma Yaga''s mouth, chilling Harry to his core. ...What was she eating? Could it be raw meat?! Suddenly, countless stories about witches flashed through Harry¡¯s mind¡ªtales of child-eating werewolves and deceptive sirens. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he had wandered into a real witch¡¯s lair. Had he discovered a witch¡¯s secret? Was he going to be eaten?! Grandma Yaga, however, seemed unaffected. After a few moments, she narrowed her wrinkled eyes, spotting the conspicuous doll on the floor. Realization dawned on her. "Oh! It¡¯s Vasilisa¡¯s doll! Silly me, I almost forgot." She laboriously rose from her chair, walked over to the delicate doll, and kindly picked it up. "Don¡¯t worry. This is another child¡¯s doll. It doesn¡¯t mean any harm and sometimes even grants small wishes, like moving you to the roof or changing your position. Because of the influence of Vasilisa¡¯s late mother¡¯s soul, it often sings nursery rhymes and likes to keep children company." "As long as you don¡¯t stay with it too long, you won¡¯t have any trouble." "Come to think of it, that child was a lot like you." She placed the doll back on the bookshelf, without elaborating on what "trouble" might mean, and instead began recounting Vasilisa¡¯s story. "Her stepmother and stepsisters often bullied her, so she came to me for help. After I taught them a good lesson, she happily stayed and studied magic with me for many years." "Oh... oh." Harry stared at her blankly. The inexplicable fear lingering in his heart hadn¡¯t entirely dissipated, leaving him both dazed and curious. Vasilisa¡¯s experience did indeed sound a lot like his own. However, while he disliked Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon, he had no intention of teaching them a lesson. After all, they had spent money raising him. His focus shifted to the last thing she said. "...Can I learn magic too?" Harry couldn¡¯t help but look at Grandma Yaga. Victor answered, "Of course you can." "Judging by your age, you should be about to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You¡¯ll start learning magic systematically there soon enough." "They¡¯ll probably send you an acceptance letter in a few days and might even send a teacher to explain everything to you." ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 5: The Moving Teapot and Knockturn Alley "Hogwarts?" Harry murmured the name, puzzled. The flood of information he''d received today was almost too much to process. First, he realized he''d landed in a wizard''s house, then got startled by a peculiar doll, and now he was being told he''d attend a new magical school. If Vernon Dursley heard any of this, he''d surely dismiss it with one word: "Nonsense!" But here Harry was, sitting beside a wizard who could make objects float. "What is Hogwarts? Will the acceptance letter be sent to my house?" Harry asked eagerly. "Probably, but I wouldn''t know," Victor replied ambiguously. "I''m a foreign wizard who just arrived here. Don''t make it hard on me. Just wait a bit; eventually, a professor from the magical school will come and explain everything to you." Victor had already finished his oatmeal porridge. After eating, he casually grabbed a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and tossed it toward the nearby washbasin. As the cloth flew toward it, the porcelain teapot on the basin''s ledge suddenly twisted its body. Its saucer base indented in the middle while two edges extended outward like tiny feet, causing it to hop to the side, dodging the incoming handkerchief. The handkerchief slid down into the sink. Then the teapot calmly adjusted its "feet," settled back into place, and acted as if nothing had happened. "Uh...?" Harry couldn''t help but stare at the porcelain teapot. The teapot was adorned with intricate golden star patterns, yet when Harry looked at it now, it appeared motionless, just like before. Meanwhile, Victor stood up after finishing his meal and began getting ready to head out. He first draped a black cloak over his shirt, then donned a pointed hat, its brim shadowing much of his face. Into his pockets, he slipped an antique pocket watch and a silver necklace. He then turned to Baba Yaga and said: "Yaga Granny, take your time eating. I''ll bring something fresh back tonight." "Alright," the old witch replied, her raspy laugh like the tearing of a windpipe, unnerving and grating. She continued to spoon that strange red solid food into her mouth. Victor seemed unfazed. He gestured for Harry to follow. "Come on." "But that teapot..." "Don''t worry about it," Victor interrupted. "It just likes cleanliness. Don''t touch it¡ªespecially not with hands you''ve used for eating. It''ll only hit you." Harry curbed his curiosity, nodding obediently while grappling with the fact that the teapot was both self-moving and fastidious.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. In a wizard''s house, nothing seemed impossible. "Where are we going?" Harry asked, looking up at Victor expectantly. "Knockturn Alley," Victor replied. "That''s where the most well-informed wizards gather. They''ll definitely know how to navigate the Muggle areas." "But you Brits are peculiar¡ªyou don''t even let wizards use magic in front of regular folks. Back where I''m from, some countries have already started posting signs everywhere, marking which forests belong to witches or fairies. Muggles are expected to steer clear," Victor said, adjusting his hat to ensure the brim obscured most of his face. "Alright, let''s go." "Oh... okay," Harry stammered. He had hoped to explore the house a bit more and satisfy his growing curiosity about wizards. Surprisingly, Harry had quickly come to terms with the existence of wizards, and it hadn¡¯t been long before he wanted to learn more about them. But Victor gave him no chance. "Come here," Victor said, beckoning him. Harry approached, and Victor placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to stand before a full-length mirror in the living room. The mirror stood near a window, reflecting the gloomy mist outside and the gnarled, leafless branches beyond. When Harry joined him, their reflections appeared in the mirror. Next to Harry''s small and slender frame, Victor seemed imposing. At least six feet tall, dressed in a black cloak and hat, he resembled a medieval figure from legends¡ªa dark wizard who brought plagues and death. Are we checking our appearances before heading out? Harry stared at the mirror, baffled. But apparently, that wasn''t the case. Once Victor settled into place, he addressed their reflections in a low, raspy tone Harry had never heard before¡ªa voice that was unsettling to hear: "Magic mirror, magic mirror... Grant me passage to Knockturn Alley." As he spoke, Harry noticed something strange. The white roses on a nearby table began changing color, starting from their centers and bleeding outward into a deep crimson until they transformed into red roses entirely. Then, at the four corners of the mirror, the vintage frame''s seams seemed to ooze a liquid¡ªlike blood trickling through the carvings. Before Harry could make sense of it all, Victor suddenly pressed a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward into the mirror. Harry saw the once-solid surface ripple like water, a cold liquid swallowing him whole and sending a chill through his entire body. When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed. The sound of a bell rang sharply in his ears. ¡°Ding-a-ling!¡± Then came the slick voice of an elderly man, hunched and oozing with unctuous charm: "Welcome, Mr. Van Der Boom. Your visits are always so... unexpected." The man slicked back his oily hair as he approached at a languid pace. "Mr. Borgin," Victor greeted him with a brief nod, acknowledging him. Harry looked around. They were in an unfamiliar shop. A damp, wood-scented shop. The walls were lined with wooden display cabinets filled with objects that matched every eerie wizarding story Harry had ever read. A glass case held a shriveled human hand, a bloodstained deck of cards, and several unmoving eyeballs. On the walls, grotesque masks hung in abundance¡ªexactly like the ones described in Dracula. When Harry glanced at the shriveled hand, it seemed to twitch slightly, its long, gray fingers curling faintly as though sensing his gaze. Harry¡¯s heart skipped a beat. This place perfectly fit the image of a shadowy, sinister wizard''s shop. But after witnessing the peculiarities of Victor¡¯s home, Harry found it easier to tolerate his surroundings. He was more curious than frightened. Truth be told, if he weren''t curious, he wouldn¡¯t have allowed Victor, a wizard, to drag him around like this. His compliance had less to do with Victor being an adult and more with his own eagerness to discover these new marvels. An entire world filled with magic! Up until now, Harry only vaguely understood the magical world. He knew he was still in England, where there was still a London, but there were also hidden places¡ªlike the Ministry of Magic and wizarding settlements. As he continued exploring the shop with his eyes, Victor had already approached Borgin. With a casual glance at the items around him, Victor turned his gaze back to Borgin and said, with apparent indifference: "Borgin, I''m here to sell something." ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 6: Borgin and Burke When Borgin heard the words "sell something," he was not surprised. On the contrary, his face lit up with excitement, the wrinkles on his face scrunching together, a stark contrast to the expression he wore earlier when entertaining Mr. Malfoy. He bent low in a deep bow. "Sell something, of course... Mr. Van der Boom, this way, please. As I''ve mentioned before, it is always an honor to accept your collections." Borgin respectfully led them, turning toward the counter. On the way, Harry glanced back and noticed that the place they had emerged from was another tall, ancient-looking mirror. Unlike the one at Victor''s house, this one didn¡¯t reflect any faces¡ªjust a dull, foggy gray surface. At the counter, Borgin noticed Harry gazing at the mirror. "Ah, the Mirror of Solmar!" Borgin eagerly explained. "Crafted by the alchemist Solmar himself, this mirror can sense the fear of those who stand before it and record those emotions. Stare long enough, and it reveals flashbacks tied to that same fear¡ªa thief or a robber would be utterly exposed in its presence." He glanced at Victor, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I still remember the first time you emerged from it. Scared me half to death¡ªI thought it was cursed! Its functionality has certainly evolved since then..." He leaned closer. "Would you consider taking this mirror with you? It¡¯s excellent for warding off intruders." "No need," Victor replied flatly, striding toward the counter. "My own mirror doesn¡¯t take kindly to competition. It could cause... incidents." Incidents? What kind of incidents? Victor offered no further explanation. Meanwhile, Harry curiously approached the mirror Borgin had described, noticing intricate red patterns around its frame¡ªpatterns that resembled dried blood. "Magic mirror¡­" Harry muttered, brushing a hand over its surface, recalling the phrase Victor had used earlier. Just as his fingers touched it, the murky gray surface seemed to shift, and a faint silhouette appeared within the fog. It was as though someone was standing on the other side, watching him intently. Startled, Harry took a step back, trying to discern who it might be.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The silhouette¡¯s skin looked pale and gray¡ªstrangely unnatural. "Hey, kid." "Ah?" Harry turned abruptly. Victor had called out to him, standing by the counter. His dark, hollow eyes peered out from under his hat¡¯s brim, fixated on Harry. "Come here. Don¡¯t mess with the mirror." "Oh¡­ okay." Harry hesitantly stepped away from the mirror and toward Victor. Victor didn¡¯t offer an explanation, only ensuring that Harry was no longer focused on the mirror. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a necklace. It was the same necklace he had taken before leaving Baba Yaga¡¯s house¡ªa rough cord with a worn, golden nautilus shell that glowed faintly in the dim shop. Victor placed it on the counter and slid it toward Borgin. "Sell this," he said. "It contains the voice of a mermaid. Wear it, and your words will transform into an enchanting melody capable of mesmerizing others and making them forget what¡¯s happening around them. It can only be used three times." "A mermaid''s voice?" Borgin adjusted his pince-nez glasses and scrutinized the nautilus. "So, it only works underwater? Mermaid songs on land turn into shrieks, don¡¯t they?" Mermaid songs become shrieks? Harry hadn¡¯t heard that before. "Not this kind of mermaid," Victor finally replied. "Test it for yourself. I have a few of these left¡ªexperimental pieces from a friend." "I¡¯ll use professional instruments to verify it, Mr. Van der Boom, but this may take a day or two," Borgin said with a slight bow. "However, I¡¯m willing to pay part of the price upfront, as I trust your reputation." "If it¡¯s another artifact resistant to magical detection, it could easily fetch 100 Galleons¡ªno, 120 per piece. The final price will depend on how long the enchanting effect lasts¡ªone Galleon per second. Does that sound agreeable?" "Fine," Victor replied with a nod. Satisfied, Borgin began rummaging behind the counter. Yet, even as he busied himself, his eyes darted toward Victor, his mind clearly preoccupied with something else. Borgin leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Have you reconsidered selling the mirror magic itself? Not the spell, but even a single-use alchemical item. There are plenty of pure-blood customers willing to pay handsomely. With the recent crackdown¡ªlook at the Malfoys¡ª" "Not interested," Victor interrupted coldly. "Understood." Recognizing Victor¡¯s reluctance, Borgin wisely dropped the topic, retreating to continue his task. Eventually, he pulled out a bronze scale. He placed the nautilus necklace on one side, with a peculiar dried eyeball floating in a jar on the other. As he weighed it, Borgin¡¯s darting eyes seemed to hatch new schemes. Then, Borgin¡¯s gaze locked with Harry¡¯s. Initially dismissive of Harry, assuming him to be an ordinary Muggle, Borgin¡¯s attitude shifted upon noticing the boy¡¯s striking green eyes. A stunned silence filled the room. Borgin¡¯s eyes bulged as recognition dawned. "You¡¯re Harry Potter?!" "You know me?" Harry asked, confused. But Borgin wasn¡¯t listening. His wide eyes stayed glued to Harry, and he took two shaky steps forward, reaching out a trembling hand as though to touch the lightning-shaped scar on Harry¡¯s forehead. Harry instinctively stepped back, avoiding the touch. Borgin quickly withdrew his hand, bowing deeply. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. How rude of me. Please accept my most sincere apologies." Borgin¡¯s nose nearly grazed his knees as he bowed, his tone dripping with flattery. As he straightened, he muttered to himself, awe and trepidation mixing in his voice: "Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter himself¡­ appearing in my shop. What a shocking and troublesome event this is." ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 7: I have a friend... Harry involuntarily stepped back a few paces, trying to distance himself from the peculiar man. However, Borgin''s appearance stirred some memories. Over the past decade, strangers on the street would often greet him, bow, as though the whole world knew who he was. Looking back now, some of their attire bore a striking resemblance to Borgin¡¯s. "Famous? Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "Why?" How had he never realized he was so well-known? In the dimly lit shop, a feeble butter-yellow lamp cast faint light on the surroundings, its shadows enormous and blurry on the walls. With the flickering gloom from outside, the shop''s collection of antique items appeared even more eerie and sinister. "Why what?" Borgin seemed taken aback. "You¡¯re the Savior, the one who defeated him¡ªthat very famous... uh... the one I can''t name. That¡¯d be terribly disrespectful," Borgin stammered. Beside them, Victor seemed to remember something, his expression shifting as he finally recognized the name Harry Potter. "Wait, are you saying this is the Harry Potter? The one who defeated the Dark Lord?" He glanced at Borgin for confirmation and quickly deduced the answer. "Looks like it." "Who¡¯s the Dark Lord?" Harry couldn''t help but ask. "I don¡¯t know much," Victor said nonchalantly. "I only heard about it while interviewing at Hogwarts. Apparently, when you were just a baby, you defeated this mysterious figure who sought to dominate the wizarding world. Saved many wizards and Muggles oppressed by him¡ªright, Borgin?" "Indeed," Borgin nodded, though his expression turned grim. "Mr. Potter has brought... a lot of trouble." Borgin shivered slightly, clearly reluctant to discuss the Dark Lord further. He gave Harry a deep bow instead. "Having the Savior visit my shop is an honor, of course. However, next time, Mr. Vanderboom, kindly escort him straight to Diagon Alley. If word gets out that Mr. Potter was seen here, it might hurt my business." It was evident that Borgin had no desire to associate with Harry any further. Someone like Borgin, frequently dealing with supporters of the Dark Lord, would naturally want to avoid the complications of being linked to Harry Potter. "How did you end up with the Savior?" Borgin muttered under his breath. "Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re going straight now?" The pure-blood families dealing in dark artifacts might interrogate him with questions like that. "I understand," Victor said dismissively, changing the topic. "Borgin, how do we get to Muggle London?" "Just head out of the Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley. Ask Tom, the bartender¡ªhe¡¯s well-versed in Muggle affairs," Borgin replied respectfully.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Got it." Victor merely nodded at Borgin. Borgin understood and hurried behind the counter, disappearing into the shadows. A moment later, he returned with a heavy cloth pouch and a peculiar book. First, he handed the pouch to Victor. "Here¡¯s 120 Galleons." Then, he offered the book to Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is a small gift. It may be insignificant to someone like you, but I hope you¡¯ll take a moment to read it. It would mean a great deal to me." "What is it?" Harry asked, puzzled, as he accepted the book. As soon as he held it, Harry felt its weight and noticed its peculiar texture¡ªalmost as though it writhed slightly in his hands, sending a chill down his spine. He looked at the cover. Bloodlines and Curses. "A Black family heirloom," Borgin explained. "A book every Black child used. Since their family has dwindled, the book was confiscated by the Ministry and somehow found its way to me. It may be a bit early for you, but it contains some... interesting little spells." Seeing that Victor didn¡¯t stop him, Harry carefully clutched the book. It was his first magical book. He had a strange feeling that this book would change his life. Ding-ding. The bell above the door jingled twice more as they left. Harry glanced back and saw Borgin bowing deeply behind them before shuffling back into the shadows behind the counter. Harry turned and wiped his cracked glasses, squinting to see the street outside clearly. They were now on Knockturn Alley, teeming with people. The sky above was overcast, thick clouds blocking all light, much like the misty forest Victor had taken him to earlier. All the surrounding shops shared the same sinister style. Borgin and Burkes was the largest shop nearby, its fa?ade decorated with ominous old wood and black paint. Across the street, another store displayed a row of shrunken heads in its window, sending chills down Harry¡¯s spine. Two or three shops away, a large cage swarmed with massive spiders, making him shudder. Further ahead, a few raggedly dressed wizards glanced at them, then huddled in the shadows, whispering among themselves. Despite the crowd, no one approached them. Victor walked beside Harry, his tall pointed hat obscuring most of his face. Wherever they went, wizards quietly parted to make way, as though his very presence blended seamlessly with Knockturn Alley. To Victor, it was just another street. In fact, Victor¡¯s first encounter with the wizarding world had been at Borgin and Burkes, where he had stepped through a mirror. Since then, Knockturn Alley had been the part of the wizarding world he knew best. "Are we really in London now?" Harry finally couldn¡¯t hold back his curiosity. "I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never been to the Muggle side," Victor replied nonchalantly. "Alright," Harry said nervously, tugging at his clothes. Changing the topic back, he asked hesitantly, "Do you know any details about my family¡ªor that mysterious figure? My aunt told me they died in a car crash." Victor nodded slightly, not rejecting the question. "There¡¯s no definitive answer from the Ministry, but I suspect it¡¯s something common in my world." "It¡¯s said the Dark Lord came to your house, intending to kill you for some reason, but he failed and died instead. I think you might¡¯ve been blessed by fairies or elves to survive." "Really?" "Yes. And your family must¡¯ve been extraordinary." "Why?" "Fairy blessings usually require special magical talents or bloodlines. Families with such traits often produce ambitious individuals who establish them as royalty or nobility¡ªat least, that¡¯s how it is where I¡¯m from." "Exceptions exist, though. I once had a friend born into poverty who possessed incredible magical talent." "What happened to them?" "They tried to steal someone¡¯s princess and their magic lamp, so they got themselves killed. Very messy," Victor replied emotionlessly. Harry stumbled at the grim response, his steps faltering. Glancing at Victor¡¯s impassive face, he noted the man¡¯s tone was as casual as if he were recounting what he¡¯d had for lunch. Is the wizarding world really this dangerous? Harry thought, overwhelmed. Victor¡¯s remarks gave him entirely the wrong impression. "Just be careful in the future," Victor added casually. "Don¡¯t start conflicts unless you¡¯re absolutely sure you¡¯ll win¡ª" "Here we are." They stopped at a brick wall, where the sky above grew brighter. The oppressive gloom of Knockturn Alley had lifted, and Harry suspected the effect had been magical. The wall had a gap through which people bustled in and out. A crooked sign nearby read: The Leaky Cauldron. ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 8: The People at the Leaky Cauldron
Within the first week of arriving in this world, Victor passed by the Leaky Cauldron many times but never entered. The pub always seemed crowded with wizards and felt oppressively warm. The Leaky Cauldron was a narrow, old building with creaky stairs that groaned underfoot and an oily sheen on every surface, giving it a perpetually grimy appearance. Victor and Harry entered through the back door, descended two flights of stairs, and arrived at the bar area, which was packed with young witches and wizards preparing for the start of the school year. "Father! I want the Nimbus 2000!" a young wizard exclaimed as he darted past Harry, tugging his parents along the stairs. "You can''t. First years at Hogwarts aren''t allowed broomsticks, but you can use your brother''s at home," the father replied firmly. Harry cast a wistful glance their way. How he wished he could prepare for school with family too. Oh wait¡ªhe was doing just that. Well, sort of. Feeling slightly consoled, Harry stole a glance at Victor beside him. Despite Victor''s perpetually cold demeanor that seemed to clear paths wherever they walked, Harry still preferred his company to navigating unfamiliar places alone. At least now, he looked no different from any other first-year accompanied by an adult. "Do all those kids already know magic?" Harry wondered silently, letting his thoughts wander as they moved toward the main hall. Abruptly, Victor came to a halt. Harry looked up in confusion and saw a white-haired old man sitting in the pub''s hall, gazing at him with gentle, kind eyes. The room fell silent, the bustling patrons now eerily quiet. Even the barkeeper was stealing nervous glances at the elderly man, who seemed to command an air of great authority. "Harry, there you are," the old man, Albus Dumbledore, spoke warmly. "It¡¯s been a long time since I last saw you. You were only this tall back then," he continued, holding his hand just above his knee, his tone light and teasing. He was wearing a whimsical blue robe adorned with various patterns, giving him an almost playful appearance. But instead of elaborating further to Harry, Dumbledore¡¯s attention shifted to Victor. "Mr. van der Boom, I didn¡¯t expect to meet you here. May I ask why Harry is with you? As far as I recall, you don¡¯t live near him, and he¡¯s been missing for two days now. His family is very worried." Harry couldn¡¯t suppress a muttered retort. "Aunt Petunia would never worry about me." Behind Dumbledore stood two other figures: a stern-looking wizard in black robes, exuding authority, and a towering, burly man with a thick beard¡ªRubeus Hagrid. The wizard''s expression was sharp, while Hagrid''s bore traces of recently shed tears.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Victor''s expression remained impassive. "Harry accidentally wandered into my home. I was just about to return him." "Accidentally?" The black-robed wizard raised an eyebrow. "Was your address unprotected? If it was, how did Harry end up staying there for two days without leaving?" "My home is secured by a unique form of protective magic, different from the Fidelius Charm. It isolates itself from both Muggles and wizards. Harry must have some special talent," Victor explained calmly. "But the wizarding law states¡ª" the wizard began, his voice growing sharp. "That¡¯s enough, Rufus," Dumbledore interjected soothingly. "This isn¡¯t the time to investigate. Hagrid, please take Harry home. It¡¯s not safe for him to stay outside any longer." Hagrid sniffled loudly, wiping his nose with a handkerchief that looked more like a bedsheet. "Of course! Poor little Harry¡ªhe must be exhausted after spending so much time out here!" "Actually, I slept pretty well last night," Harry muttered, inching away from Hagrid¡¯s emotional outburst. The sheer speed at which everything was happening left Harry disoriented. He didn¡¯t recognize any of these people, yet they all spoke as if they were close relatives. Compared to their overwhelming presence, Victor''s reserved silence felt oddly comforting. At least Victor wasn¡¯t bombarding him with questions or claims of familiarity. Noticing Harry''s hesitation, Victor leaned down slightly and spoke softly, "Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. You''ll see him often in the future." Victor then turned back to Dumbledore. "Harry arrived near my home yesterday morning. I was away at Hogwarts for an interview at the time, and my housemate, Baba Yaga, only found him in the evening. Since he was exhausted, we let him rest overnight and planned to return him today." "I recall you were indeed at Hogwarts when Harry went missing," Dumbledore said, nodding thoughtfully. Victor returned the gesture with a slight nod of his own. "If you have further concerns, you¡¯re welcome to visit my home. I don¡¯t mind if you place additional wards nearby to prevent future intrusions." "Thank you. That would be most helpful," Dumbledore said with a smile. Harry, meanwhile, tried to voice a question, but Dumbledore preempted him. "Harry, I know you have many questions. Don¡¯t worry¡ªHagrid will answer them all for you later and give you your Hogwarts acceptance letter." "But you¡¯ve been away from home for too long. I believe it¡¯s important for you to return to your aunt and uncle first," Dumbledore said kindly. "Take him back via the Underground, Hagrid," Dumbledore instructed. "Oh, right! Got it!" Hagrid replied, his voice attempting to sound gentle despite his sheer size and exuberance. Harry couldn¡¯t shake his unease as he glanced around at the adults. He wanted to protest, to ask for more information, but their authoritative demeanor left no room for argument. He cast one last, hesitant glance at Victor. To his surprise, Victor was looking back at him. ¡­Was Victor feeling a bit reluctant? After a moment of silence, Victor reached into his pocket and handed Harry a small, old-fashioned pocket watch with a bronze casing. "A parting gift," Victor said quietly. "If you ever have questions you can¡¯t resolve, its hands will guide you to answers. Consider it a complimentary gift for our future dealings, Mr. Potter." "You can¡¯t afford the price now, but you will soon enough." ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 9: Girl in the Rain Harry had no idea what Victor meant by his words. He simply accepted the pocket watch in a daze before being ushered away by Hagrid. Of course, before Harry left, both Dumbledore and Scrimgeour carefully inspected the watch to ensure it wasn''t cursed. Harry¡¯s figure vanished into the streets outside the Leaky Cauldron. It was said that it wasn¡¯t until Aunt Petunia screamed at him in the face that Harry truly felt a sense of reality¡ª¡°Ah, so magic isn¡¯t just a dream of mine.¡± But none of this mattered to the people left in the Leaky Cauldron. By the time Harry was riding the subway, they had already left the bar and, at Victor''s invitation, were on their way to see his home. What they didn¡¯t expect, however, was just how peculiar the journey would be. It wasn¡¯t via Floo Powder or Apparition. London¡¯s weather was perpetually gloomy, and today was no exception. As the three of them stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, the drizzle outside had woven into a fine, dense mist, landing on their pointed hats and cloaks. Their attire stood out sharply against the pedestrians on the London streets. But the pedestrians were used to it. London had its fair share of eccentric characters, and a few more wouldn¡¯t draw much attention. The trio strolled through the rain, following Victor¡¯s lead. However, it wasn¡¯t long before Scrimgeour ran out of patience. Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic, resembled an old lion with his tawny hair, bushy eyebrows, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Despite his strong and composed appearance, his heavy dark circles betrayed his exhaustion. ¡ªThis was because, ever since Dumbledore brought news of Harry Potter¡¯s disappearance to the Ministry the previous night, all the Aurors had been mobilized to search for him. They worked through the night, fearing the worst might happen to the Boy Who Lived under their watch. But no matter what spells or methods they tried, Harry couldn¡¯t be found. It was maddening. Forced to endure an all-nighter, Scrimgeour¡¯s expression was naturally sour. After a while of walking in the rain, he couldn¡¯t help but bark, ¡°How exactly are we getting there? Are we taking a Muggle subway?¡± ¡°Walking,¡± Victor replied succinctly. ¡°You live nearby?¡± ¡°No. The house is currently hundreds of miles away, near Scotland. But since I haven¡¯t figured out how to connect my fireplace to the Floo Network, I have to use an older method to get there.¡± ¡°Like¡ªthis.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Before Scrimgeour could turn to him with incredulous eyes and ask, ¡®Are we walking all the way to Scotland?!¡¯, the scenery around them began to change. Wisps of mist curled around them, growing denser with each step they took, until even the pedestrians brushing past them became blurred. As Scrimgeour noticed this, he also realized the pedestrians seemed unable to see them anymore. Blurry, indistinct figures passed by on either side of them, as though they were in another dimension. No matter what Scrimgeour did, the figures continued moving, oblivious to their presence. The figures grew fainter and fainter, yet somehow came closer, brushing past Scrimgeour as though walking through him. He felt as though he were walking in some kind of rift, forced to turn sideways to avoid these figures¡ªthough they seemed completely unaware of him. Finally, a woman emerged ahead of him, walking straight toward him. Unlike the other figures, she appeared more vivid and tangible, standing out starkly against the mist and rain. The woman was dressed in typical London attire: a black trench coat and a black cloche hat. Yet in the fog and drizzle, her features blended with the grayness around her, giving her an eerie air. She walked straight ahead, drawing closer. She was about to collide with him. At that moment, staring at the woman in the rain, an inexplicable sense of dread and pressure overcame Scrimgeour. He felt a strong urge to shut his eyes and avoid her gaze. But his experience as an Auror sparked an anger he couldn¡¯t quite place. He yanked out his wand and shouted: ¡°Petrificus Totalus!¡± A brilliant red beam of light slashed through the gloomy fog, illuminating everything around them for a fleeting moment and obscuring Scrimgeour¡¯s vision. He breathed heavily, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But as the light faded, he found himself standing in a dark, mist-shrouded forest. It was as if all the figures from before had been illusions. The woman¡¯s figure had vanished as well. ¡°What?¡± Scrimgeour froze, wand still raised. When he turned his head, he saw that Victor and Dumbledore were still beside him, both gazing at him¡ªone with an impassive expression, the other looking thoughtful. Their presence helped ground him, and his chaotic thoughts began to settle. ¡°Was this your magic?!¡± Scrimgeour scowled at Victor, gripping his wand tightly. ¡°Have we left London?¡± Victor nodded lightly, showing no surprise. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°How did you do it? That¡¯s impossible!¡± Scrimgeour glanced around, at the gray sky above and the twisted branches surrounding them. It felt as though his understanding of magic had been completely overturned. A few mere steps, and they had left London? Dumbledore, however, seemed far less perturbed. His expression was contemplative. ¡°A different application of transportation magic. I see. The nature of magic hasn¡¯t changed, only the method of casting¡­ What a unique invention. Is it an ancient Slavic technique? I¡¯ve never come across related materials. But this is truly enlightening, ingenious even. It could occupy years of research.¡± ¡°Apologies, I got carried away,¡± Dumbledore said, snapping out of his musings. He smiled at Victor. ¡°Mr. Vanderboom, you wouldn¡¯t mind enlightening an old man, would you? How did we get here?¡± ¡°As long as you have a key and a clear enough intent, you can walk directly to your destination,¡± Victor explained calmly, pulling out an old brass key from his pocket and holding it up for Dumbledore to see. ¡°Because everyone¡¯s thoughts are different, some may see special illusions in the mist.¡± ¡°That sounds very much like a spell from our school,¡± Dumbledore remarked with a chuckle. ¡°I remember once, in school, I desperately needed to use the lavatory. At the end of the hallway, a door suddenly appeared out of nowhere. When I walked in, it was full of chamber pots.¡± ¡°Ah, magic tied to desire¡­¡± Scrimgeour frowned deeply and couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°Then seeing a woman in dark clothing¡ªis that also an illusion?¡± A woman in dark clothing? Victor raised an eyebrow and scrutinized Scrimgeour for a moment before speaking slowly. ¡°No.¡± ¡°You may have seen the shadow of a friend of mine. She enjoys walking in the rain.¡± ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 10: What on earth did you learn?! In the shadowy, mist-filled forest... While Dumbledore spent some time marveling at the unique nature of the magic, Scrimgeour couldn¡¯t shake off his confusion about the rain-soaked woman he had seen earlier. However, before he could ask, a heavy thudding sound interrupted his thoughts. The ground began to tremble slightly. Scrimgeour and Dumbledore immediately turned serious, looking in the direction of the sound. "Such heavy footsteps¡­" Scrimgeour muttered under his breath, frowning. "Could it be a dragon? Or a giant?" But his questions were quickly answered. Moments later, the source of the thudding noise emerged from the mist. It was a giant house perched atop two enormous, two-story-high chicken legs. The legs looked both real and colossal, though they were of a muted, grayish hue, extending from the wooden floor of the small house. Vines covered the joints where the legs connected to the house, adding to its eerie appearance. On the exterior of the house, some deep blue nightshades dangled, lending an even more sinister and mysterious aura as the house moved through the dense forest. ...It looked unmistakably like the dwelling of a witch. The chicken legs took a few more steps forward, halting with a rustling sound directly above them. A small rope ladder unfurled from the house above. "Let''s go," Viktor said, turning to look at Dumbledore and Scrimgeour before climbing the ladder first. Once all three of them had entered the warm, cozy wooden house, they finally felt grounded, as though everything they¡¯d just experienced wasn¡¯t merely an illusion. "This is incredible. Simply incredible," Dumbledore said, glancing around. His eyes lingered on the fireplace with its flickering flames and then on the massive chicken legs beneath the house, which had resumed moving. "What kind of magic is this?" Scrimgeour couldn¡¯t help but ask Viktor. "Is it large-scale magic like at Hogwarts? Or is this house an alchemical creation?" "Both are possible. I haven¡¯t really studied it," Viktor replied. "You¡¯ve certainly demonstrated the extraordinary nature of this place firsthand, Mr. Vandevoom," Dumbledore said slowly. "I now fully believe Harry¡¯s accidental entry into this realm was indeed a fluke. However, I remain curious¡ªwhy was Harry able to stumble in here from somewhere near Privet Drive?" "Is it some variation of a Muggle-repelling charm?" Scrimgeour guessed. "Something like that," Viktor answered. "The mist surrounding the house moves constantly, drifting between England and Scotland. Occasionally, it drifts near cities. The mist can block most wizards and Muggles from entering, but if someone with a special talent crosses paths with it, the effect isn¡¯t as reliable." "A special talent?" Scrimgeour pressed. Viktor explained lazily, removing his pointed hat and hanging it on a nearby coat rack beside a full-length mirror. At the moment, Baba Yaga herself was absent from the living room.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. From where Dumbledore and Scrimgeour stood, they could take in the entire house at a glance. To their left was a row of windows beneath which stood a sink and cabinets; directly ahead was the fireplace; to their right were fabric-covered sofas and a rug; and behind them was a square dining table. The house wasn¡¯t large, but everything inside it felt warm and pleasant. Dumbledore surveyed the surroundings thoughtfully. "If that¡¯s the case, setting up another repelling charm should solve the issue," he remarked after a moment, "and it shouldn¡¯t be too difficult." "Let¡¯s focus on another important matter, Mr. Vandevoom," he continued. "Another matter?" "Yes." Dumbledore nodded slowly and walked over to the dining table. "I hope you don¡¯t mind if an old man takes a seat?" "Of course not. Please, both of you," Viktor said, gesturing for them to sit. Dumbledore and Scrimgeour took their seats on either side of the table, while Viktor sat across from them. After the three of them were seated, a plump, stubby teapot waddled over, followed by three small teacups. The teapot shook itself and poured a bit of red tea into each of the cups. "Thank you. A warm cup of tea is just what I needed after such a long walk," Dumbledore said with a smile. He took a sip of his tea before setting the cup down and speaking with a solemn tone. "I¡¯ve come here for another reason as well." "Mr. Vandevoom, last night, despite being in the company of all the other professors at Hogwarts, Professor Sybill Trelawney unfortunately fell into a deep sleep¡ªjust as you had ¡®predicted.¡¯" "Oh," Viktor responded nonchalantly. "After thorough investigation by myself and members of the Ministry¡ªincluding Director Scrimgeour here¡ªwe found no traces of curses or magical interference on Sybill. It was simply a toxic reaction between the vine she pricked herself on and the incense she had been inhaling daily." "Sybill has been transferred to St. Mungo¡¯s for treatment. The hospital¡¯s best healers estimate it will take at least two years for her to wake up, as the herb involved has a two-year growth cycle..." "It seems the first half of your ¡®prediction¡¯ has already come true." Dumbledore didn¡¯t bother asking whether the second half would also come true. After all, Viktor himself had made the prediction, and the answer would only ever be ¡°yes.¡± Moreover, Dumbledore had already verified it countless times. Last night, everyone at Hogwarts had been with Trelawney. As the clock struck midnight, they were all in the Great Hall, chatting and enjoying desserts, confident nothing would go wrong. Dumbledore had personally kept an eye on Sybill and had ensured all the hall¡¯s windows were sealed, making it impossible for her to come into contact with any poisonous vines. But during their conversation, Trelawney¡¯s headscarf accidentally fell to the ground. When she bent down to retrieve it, she tripped over her long skirt and stumbled, accidentally opening a window. Her hand brushed against a vine growing just outside. She fell unconscious and was rushed to St. Mungo¡¯s that very night. The moment Dumbledore heard the diagnosis, he found himself believing in Viktor¡¯s ¡°prediction¡± more than ever. And indeed, he hadn¡¯t detected any traces of magic. Everything seemed to be a series of extraordinary coincidences, so much so that even the Wizards¡¯ Code of Law could not hold Viktor accountable. What¡¯s more, if things truly unfolded as Viktor¡¯s prediction suggested, it would actually be a good thing. Trelawney had long desired to possess genuine prophetic abilities, though she had no awareness of the predictions she¡¯d made in the past. Prophecies, after all, cannot be altered. Dumbledore sighed, then retrieved a letter from his pocket and slid it across the table to Viktor. The letter, sealed with a wax stamp featuring a crest of a badger, serpent, eagle, and lion, was unmistakably official. "This is your appointment letter, Mr. Vandevoom. Hogwarts would like to offer you the position of Divination Professor for the next two years. The textbook previously used by Sybill was Unfogging the Future. If you¡¯d like to make any changes to the curriculum, please inform us promptly so we can notify the students." "In addition, the fifth-year students taking Divination will sit for their O.W.L.s at the end of the year, and graduating students will face their N.E.W.T. exams. You may need to dedicate extra time to those two groups." Viktor accepted the letter, but he paused momentarily when the exams were mentioned. "What were the usual Divination exam topics?" he asked with a faintly puzzled expression. His concern wasn¡¯t about the exams themselves but about their content. ¡ªAfter all, with Trelawney¡¯s "inner eye" seemingly dormant for years at a time, what exactly had the students been learning all this time? Could they really claim to know Divination if they couldn¡¯t see the future? ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 11: Tea Leaf Divination "The O.W.L.s Divination exam mainly tests foundational divination knowledge, focusing on tea-leaf imagery, celestial patterns, and the like. Although few students choose Divination as an elective each year, the pass rate is still 60%," said Dumbledore. "As long as the students can correctly remember the meanings behind each omen, they can pass the exam." Viktor¡¯s expression became even more puzzled, an unusual moment where his mood was plainly visible. "But hasn''t Professor Trelawney failed to make an accurate prophecy for years? I met her briefly during my interview yesterday, and her Inner Eye seemed very unclear." Dumbledore looked a little surprised. "Indeed... but I have heard her make a prophecy before." "What good is that?" Viktor frowned. "If Trelawney herself doesn¡¯t know how to open her Inner Eye, how can she teach her students to open theirs? If students can¡¯t see the future, can they truly be considered capable of divination?" Dumbledore was silent for a moment before asking back, "...Does divination require one to see the future?" "Doesn¡¯t it?" "? " Viktor and Dumbledore stared at each other, both falling into silence. Even Rufus Scrimgeour, standing nearby, didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡ª Wasn''t divination all about playing with tea leaves, stargazing, and then spouting a bunch of cryptic and ambiguous remarks? Last year, The Daily Prophet had even joked that Divination should be renamed How to Bluff and Fool People. Many wizards felt the class was entirely useless and should be abolished, but it had survived all these years thanks to Dumbledore¡¯s insistence. So were they actually right all along? Unbelievable. On the other hand, Viktor¡¯s expression was one of resigned realization. "Perhaps our concepts differ. At least where I¡¯m from, wizards who can¡¯t see the future but pretend to be prophets are simply called: frauds." Prophecy wasn¡¯t a legend in Viktor¡¯s homeland. While only a few wizards could accurately foresee the future decades ahead, most could at least predict minor fortunes and misfortunes, or sense a glimpse of what lay ahead. If Hogwarts students couldn¡¯t even manage that¡ªthen what they were learning wasn¡¯t divination at all! Staring at the sky and fiddling with tea leaves like Trelawney? That was fraud, not divination!The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Viktor sank into a deep silence. "........." Dumbledore shook his head helplessly, exchanging a knowing look with Scrimgeour. Dumbledore then asked with interest, "So, how would you define divination? Is Unfogging the Future inaccurate?" "That book isn¡¯t wrong," Viktor replied. "The methods and interpretations described are feasible. But the problem lies here: the same pattern might represent different things to different people. Even seeing the omen itself requires magical control. If one cannot open their Inner Eye, what they see will be entirely meaningless." "For example¡­ Professor Dumbledore, may I borrow your teacup?" "Of course." Dumbledore handed over his teacup. At this point, the tea was nearly gone, leaving only the leaves at the bottom. Viktor took the cup, holding it in his left hand, giving it three light shakes, then clenching his right fist gently before opening it above the cup. A nameless white mist emerged from his seemingly empty hand, spreading over the tea leaves, obscuring their shapes. Scrimgeour couldn¡¯t help but comment, "Wandless magic? And quite the atmosphere you¡¯re creating." Viktor shot him a glance but said nothing. He placed the cup on the table, slowly spinning it as Dumbledore and Scrimgeour leaned in to watch the swirling tea leaves. For some reason, the mist Viktor conjured lingered, shrouding the leaves as they turned, heightening the mysterious atmosphere¡ªexceeding even Trelawney¡¯s theatrics. Three pairs of eyes scrutinized the rotating tea leaves. As Viktor gazed at the leaves, faint, almost imperceptible red glints flickered in his dark, shadowy eyes. The mist and leaves seemed to swirl together, presenting the trio with some kind of vision. "A looming shadow¡­ This likely signifies a persistent danger, ever-present and soon to surge back. It requires careful handling to avoid being engulfed." His voice turned hoarse and ethereal as he spoke. "Even Professor Dumbledore in danger? I doubt that," Scrimgeour murmured skeptically. "He¡¯s England¡¯s most knowledgeable wizard, after all." Viktor ignored him, continuing to turn the cup. He moved his right hand slightly, causing the mist to stir and the tea leaves to shift again. "A broken pendulum, missing its hands¡­ Time is running out, implying that any reaction must come quickly¡­ But the damage is minimal, suggesting limited danger and a high chance of success." "A mirror, facing figures¡­ The true threat lies within." After saying this, Viktor¡¯s voice faltered. He stopped turning the cup, then muttered in a low tone: "He will not die, as he has never truly lived." The mist writhed like a great moth, faint patterns forming within it. Seven indistinct shapes seemed to appear, but before anyone could discern their meaning, the mist dissipated, revealing only the tea leaves underneath. Viktor set down the cup. Scrimgeour¡¯s skeptical expression remained unchanged. But Dumbledore¡¯s face turned serious, his hand tightening under the table despite his calm demeanor. The room fell into silence. After a moment, Scrimgeour asked, "Is that all?" "That¡¯s all," Viktor replied. "...With all due respect, this seems no different from Professor Trelawney¡¯s methods," Scrimgeour said, frowning. "I¡¯ve heard that Europe¡¯s infamous Dark Lord, Grindelwald, was a Seer who could project future visions into reality." "Only a few are born able to see the future. The rest must pay a price," Viktor replied cryptically. After completing his prophecy, Viktor waved the teacup toward the teapot, which slowly carried it toward the sink. The room remained silent for a while. Dumbledore stared at the table with his bright blue eyes, lost in thought. Finally, after several seconds, he snapped back. "Apologies, I was distracted." "I¡¯ve seen your abilities now, Mr. Vanderboom. I believe you are capable of taking on the role of Divination professor. We won¡¯t trouble you further. Let¡¯s just set up a repelling charm and be off." "Oh, and Professor McGonagall asked me to inform you that she will still meet you at Charing Cross Road at the agreed time. She wants to discuss your teaching and employment arrangements. Additionally, due to recent staff shortages, you may also be assigned some administrative duties." ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 12: Onboarding Checklist Victor was actually quite pleased with the idea of setting up a repelling charm. While he needed potential clients for his deals, he didn¡¯t want them wandering into his home uninvited. That sort of arrangement could be planned carefully over time. His previous encounter with Trelawney had been more of a coincidence during his visit to the school. Speaking of which, Victor recalled that transaction vividly. "Why can¡¯t I truly see the future? Why is it that others can teach their students knowledge and earn their gratitude, but I lack that ability? I¡­ I genuinely wish to teach them..." "...What price are you willing to pay for it?" This conversation had occurred just the day before, in the Divination Tower. Victor''s statement that ¡°ordinary people must pay a price to gain the ability to prophesy¡± was not an idle comment. It had its precedents. Trelawney herself had traded two years of her lifespan and two segments of her liver to gain the ability to prophesize through a deal with him. Giving something to gain something else¡ªthis immutable truth governed not just the magical world, but also the fairytale lands. Victor¡¯s role was essentially that of a broker, collecting the price before providing the desired result. Sure, he took a little profit for himself as the middleman, but overall, it was a fair exchange. ¡­So he couldn¡¯t quite understand why, in the fairytale realms, people always referred to him as a ¡°devil.¡± Victor genuinely didn¡¯t get it. After parting ways with Dumbledore and Scrimgeour, Victor escorted them out using the same method they¡¯d arrived by, this time without encountering any peculiar incidents. With the visitors gone, Victor gained a rare but mundane two-day break. On the third morning, Victor found himself seated before the cool fireplace, sifting through a pile of books he had purchased in Knockturn Alley. The more he read, the deeper his frown became. He was seated on a fabric sofa directly facing the fireplace, holding a book in his hands. The remaining dozen books were stacked in a tall pile nearby, each bearing signs of having been leafed through. However, none of them seemed to have been treated with any care, left haphazardly on the table. The book he was holding had a purple cover, wrinkled like old tree bark, with a texture that felt oddly cold and scaly, like a snake. Its title read: ¡°How to Perceive Destiny Through Curses.¡± At the dining table, Baba Yaga was chewing on a heap of reddish food. The meal smelled strongly of iron, and the contents were too formless to discern what they were.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Hearing Victor sigh again, Baba Yaga spoke slowly. ¡°Problems with your research?¡± ¡°Problems?¡± Victor snapped the book shut with a loud clap and took a deep breath. ¡°Absolute garbage.¡± ¡°Other than Unveiling the Future Through the Mist, which was mildly useful, everything else is rubbish. Honestly, I¡¯m amazed at how this world¡¯s writers manage to cram so much nonsense into a single book with so little actual knowledge!¡± ¡°Take this one, for instance,¡± he said, picking up a book with a black dog on its cover. He read its title aloud: ¡°Death Omens: What to Do When Doom Approaches.¡± ¡°The author may as well have listed every mundane thing in daily life as a potential omen!¡± ¡°So they¡¯re all clueless about divination?¡± Baba Yaga asked. ¡°Exactly. Ten books, not a single competent author among them.¡± ¡°And this one¡ªThe Connection Between Curses and Prophecy¡ªwhat a title! You¡¯d think it was profound, but it¡¯s actually about using curses to ensure every prediction comes true by personally eliminating anyone who defies the prophecy.¡± ¡°And that counts as prophecy?!¡± Baba Yaga laughed dryly, exposing two precariously loose teeth in her shriveled mouth. ¡°You¡¯re no better, Victor. You remind me of what you taught Maleficent. She couldn¡¯t prophesy but needed a convincing prediction to solidify her status as a great dark sorceress. So you had her fake it with curses and concoct that nonsense about true love¡¯s kiss...¡± ¡°She paid the price,¡± Victor replied with a shrug. ¡°Two fairy wings. That was sufficient for me to make an exception.¡± Casting a disdainful glance at the pile of books, Victor decided their continued presence was an affront to his library. With a snap of his fingers, the cold flames in the fireplace surged and consumed the entire stack in seconds. Ashes danced briefly in the air before being devoured by glowing embers, leaving no trace. At that moment, a small bell near the fireplace jingled twice. ¡°You¡¯ve got mail,¡± Baba Yaga said from behind him. The bell was attached to a wooden chute Victor had set up just the day before. Since owls couldn¡¯t navigate through the magical mist surrounding his house, he had installed a transfer spell on the roof. It redirected letters from a fixed mailbox to his home. With a soft clunk, something slid down the chute. Victor opened the small hatch at the bottom and retrieved an envelope sealed with four animal crests in wax. It bore a letter from Professor McGonagall: To Mr. Vanderboom, As previously arranged, I will meet you at the designated location on Charing Cross Road at 2 PM this afternoon. I will also bring along a new student. Due to the school¡¯s current administrative workload, I hope you can assist with guiding them. Note: Attached is the list of items required for Hogwarts teaching staff. Victor turned to the second page to find a neat checklist: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ¨C Teacher Essentials -A set of formal robes suitable for official occasions, with cloak length no more than one inch above the ankle. Color is optional. -A plain pointed hat. -A valid birth certificate. Non-magical born witches/wizards may substitute a Muggle-issued ID or immigration papers. -A Gringotts account number for monthly payroll deposits. -A wand. -A detailed syllabus for the term. Optional activities requiring preparation: -Quidditch: Professors may volunteer as referees for school matches but must have prior experience. Interested individuals should contact Madam Hooch. -Club Creation: Professors may establish student clubs, pending approval from the headmaster and deputy headmaster. -Hogwarts Grounds Exploration: Professors are entitled to select magical materials worth up to 100 Galleons monthly from the grounds and Forbidden Forest. Requests exceeding this limit require deputy headmaster approval. ------ you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 13: The Grangers That afternoon, Viktor appeared promptly on the streets of London, waiting in front of the 13th shop on Charing Cross Road. He wore his usual black cloak and a pointed hat pulled low to cover the upper half of his face, revealing only a pale chin. This peculiar appearance caught the attention of passing pedestrians, but since it was a weekday, there weren¡¯t many around to stare. After waiting for three to five minutes, Viktor spotted Professor McGonagall in the crowd. Minerva McGonagall was a stern witch, her hair always neatly tied in a bun, and she wore a modest green robe. Viktor had read a small anecdote about her in the Hogwarts staff introduction he reviewed yesterday¡ªit was said she once fell in love with a Muggle but chose to sacrifice that love for her passion for Transfiguration. She remained unmarried to this day. Such dedication to one''s pursuit was rare. However, what caught Viktor''s attention even more was the group following Professor McGonagall. There was a couple and a young girl. The girl had frizzy hair and a timid expression, but her features and demeanor carried a distinct air of intellect. They spotted Viktor as well. Professor McGonagall approached with a warm nod. "Mr. Vanderboom," she greeted. "Professor McGonagall," Viktor responded with a polite nod of his own. "I''m terribly sorry for being late. The subway was delayed by half an hour, and since we¡¯re not allowed to use magic in Muggle areas while escorting students, it caused us some delay." "It''s no problem." "Good. Speaking of which, I¡¯ve received the reply to the employment offer Albus sent you a few days ago. The approval process should be completed within the next couple of days." Professor McGonagall offered a faint smile, her demeanor noticeably friendlier than during their last meeting. "It¡¯s unfortunate we couldn¡¯t get to know each other better beforehand, Mr. Vanderboom. I suppose we¡¯ll have to wait until the term starts. With new students enrolling and supplies to organize, my schedule has become increasingly tight, which is why I must ask you to assist this family with purchasing school supplies." ¡°Oh, I nearly forgot introductions¡ª" ¡°These are Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They run a dental clinic." "And this is Miss Hermione Granger, one of our new students this year." Professor McGonagall stepped aside slightly, allowing Viktor to meet the Granger family¡¯s gaze. Mr. Granger quickly extended his hand. ¡°Hello, hello.¡± ¡°Hello.¡± Viktor shook his hand. As they shook hands, Viktor lifted his hat brim slightly. Being taller than Mr. Granger, the adjustment revealed his peculiar eyes¡ªblack pupils that were disproportionately large and hollow-looking. This caused Mr. Granger to flinch involuntarily. ¡°Ah!¡± Hermione, already tense, let out a short squeak. Realizing her outburst, she blushed furiously. ¡°S-Sorry, Professor.¡± ¡°It¡¯s all right.¡± Viktor nodded calmly toward her and released Mr. Granger¡¯s hand. Professor McGonagall smiled, breaking the awkward moment. ¡°Miss Granger might be a bit nervous, but she¡¯s a good child.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already explained much about the wizarding world to her. When you take them inside, there¡¯s no need to repeat it.¡± She turned to introduce Viktor to the Granger couple. ¡°This is Professor Viktor Vanderboom. He teaches Divination.¡± ¡°Divination?¡± Mr. Granger asked, surprised. Could wizards predict the future? But he quickly reminded himself¡ªif wizards and magic were real, then so was divination. Professor McGonagall nodded. ¡°Yes. However, Divination is an elective course available to third-years and above. Miss Granger will learn more about it in due time.¡± She added, ¡°The list of supplies for new students includes items required for each subject, which must be purchased from various shops in Diagon Alley.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°For efficiency, I recommend starting at Gringotts, then Madam Malkin¡¯s Robes for All Occasions, Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders, and finally the Cauldron Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium. This way, you can finish everything before sundown without backtracking.¡± ¡°Oh, thank you very much.¡± It was evident Mr. Granger didn¡¯t fully understand every term, but he assumed the instructions were more for Viktor than for them. Hermione, meanwhile, was still dwelling on her earlier embarrassment. ¡®What was I thinking?¡¯ she chastised herself. Her face, framed by frizzy hair, was a picture of remorse as she fidgeted with her hands behind her back. ¡®Professor wasn¡¯t even that frightening. Why did I react like that? Did I leave a bad impression?¡¯ As a model student, Hermione always sought the approval of her teachers. Knowing nothing about Hogwarts yet only intensified this need. On the other side, Professor McGonagall and Viktor quickly concluded their conversation. Before leaving, Professor McGonagall addressed Viktor, ¡°I need to submit some forms at the Ministry of Magic. I leave the rest to you, Mr. Vanderboom.¡± ¡°Understood. Goodbye, Professor McGonagall.¡± With that, Professor McGonagall returned to her usual stern demeanor and walked toward a secluded corner of the alley. Viktor assumed she would Disapparate to the Ministry, the standard wizarding mode of transport. Once her figure disappeared, the remaining group had a chance to assess each other. The Grangers exchanged glances, then cautiously observed Viktor¡¯s somewhat eerie appearance. They couldn¡¯t help but reflect¡ªliterature¡¯s descriptions of wizards weren¡¯t far off after all. ¡°...Where are we going now?¡± Mr. Granger asked. ¡°To the Leaky Cauldron nearby.¡± ¡°But we didn¡¯t see a sign for that pub?¡± ¡°Follow me.¡± Without offering further explanation, Viktor led the way to a narrow pub wedged between two larger shops. Above the entrance hung a sign reading The Leaky Cauldron. From the outside, the pub looked impossibly small. In the eyes of Muggles, it was merely a wall. Viktor disappeared into the "wall." The Grangers, full of curiosity, touched the space where he vanished before Hermione tugged them along into the Leaky Cauldron. Inside, the pub was a world apart from the quiet streets of London. It was lively and bustling, filled with chatting wizards and the hum of conversations. ¡°Oh my, this is... simply magical,¡± Mrs. Granger remarked. ¡°What¡¯s so magical about it?¡± Hermione asked, puzzled. ¡°The pub was here all along.¡± ¡°It¡¯s normal for Mrs. Granger not to see it,¡± Viktor said softly. ¡°This place is enchanted with Muggle-Repelling and Confundus Charms. Only magical folk can perceive it; Muggles see it as a blank wall.¡± ¡°There are various kinds of Muggle-Repelling Charms. Some make Muggles think of urgent business as they approach, achieving the same effect. It¡¯s all in service of the Statute of Secrecy.¡± ¡°What if someone stumbles in by accident?¡± Mr. Granger asked curiously. ¡°That would be handled by the Ministry of Magic¡¯s Enforcement Squad, usually with a Memory Charm.¡± Having explained this, Viktor guided the Grangers toward the pub¡¯s stairs, preparing to enter Diagon Alley. While passing through the crowd of drinking and chatting wizards, Viktor noticed an unusual buzz in the air. The patrons seemed particularly animated, talking excitedly about something. His attention was drawn to a conversation at the bar. ¡°They say Harry Potter, the great savior, was here yesterday!¡± one wizard exclaimed. ¡°Yes, right at this very spot! I even shook his hand!¡± added another, beaming with pride. ------- you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 14: Gringotts ¡°Harry Potter?¡± Hermione also caught wind of their conversation and couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of curiosity. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a young wizard who defeated the Dark Lord over a decade ago. This year, he¡¯ll be starting school at the same time as you. Nobody knows exactly how he managed to do it¡ªit was a miracle, and that¡¯s why he¡¯s remembered to this day.¡± Victor, leading the group up the stairs of the Leaky Cauldron, answered their questions with a patient demeanor. The old, creaky stairs of the Leaky Cauldron groaned under their weight. The narrow steps were bustling with witches and wizards, forcing them to sidestep to avoid those descending. Mrs. Granger, cautiously moving past a wizard, seemed to catch on to a particularly ominous term. ¡°The Dark Lord? Who¡¯s that?¡± ¡°You could think of him as a wizard who advocated for racial inequality,¡± Victor explained. ¡°He believed that Muggle-borns were a separate and inferior race compared to pure-blood wizards. He gathered a group of followers to persecute the former, nearly taking over the wizarding world at one point.¡± Mrs. Granger¡¯s concern deepened. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that mean Hermione could also be targeted?¡± Victor glanced at the worried expression on her face. ¡°Most people in the wizarding world don¡¯t support his actions. Hogwarts certainly doesn¡¯t either, so you don¡¯t need to worry.¡± Despite his reassuring words, Victor¡¯s prophetic intuition suddenly stirred, a faint ripple warning him that Hermione indeed might have cause to worry about this matter in the future¡ªthough not immediately. He frowned slightly. Could it be that the Dark Lord would return to Hogwarts and endanger the students? That would be troubling. Mrs. and Mr. Granger, however, seemed to grow more apprehensive. Their experiences in London¡¯s complex society had taught them to read between the lines, and this situation appeared far from simple. If Harry Potter, that ¡°Savior,¡± was so renowned, and the Dark Lord had nearly conquered the magical world, it couldn¡¯t possibly be as straightforward as Victor suggested. As they mulled over these thoughts, the group finally reached the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron, passed through a small garden, and arrived at a platform with nothing but a few trash bins. Victor counted three bricks upward and two to the left before tapping a specific brick with his hand. Knock, knock, knock. The brick quivered slightly under his touch. Then, starting from the brick he tapped, the wall began to shift, the bricks pulling back one by one to reveal a widening archway. Beyond it lay a bustling street. Hermione peered through the opening, catching sight of shop windows displaying cauldrons of all sizes. Around the corner stood another store, apparently an apothecary, its entrance crowded with exotic herbs and strange, animated plants. In front of the apothecary, a woman was shaking her head, muttering, ¡°Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce¡ªthey¡¯ve lost their minds¡­¡± The whimsical sights immediately lightened the heavy mood from earlier. They stepped onto the cobblestone street, and as they did, the bricks behind them slid back into place, once again forming a solid red-brick wall.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Welcome to Diagon Alley,¡± Victor announced with a nod. ¡°Let¡¯s head to Gringotts to exchange some Galleons first.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± replied Mr. and Mrs. Granger, their voices laced with astonishment as they tried to take in the vibrant surroundings. As they walked further, the scenery grew increasingly diverse. Hermione spotted Madam Malkin¡¯s Robes for All Occasions, which Professor McGonagall had mentioned earlier. In the shop¡¯s window, rows of animated, elegant robes were displayed. As passersby approached, the robes lifted their hems as if performing a graceful bow. Hermione couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the magical sights but quickly realized how out of place she looked. Her plain white shirt and jeans might be ordinary in London, but here, amidst a sea of witches and wizards in elaborate robes, she felt like a garlic clove among oranges. Victor¡¯s earlier mention of the ¡°Dark Lord¡± lingered in her mind. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Victor suddenly announced. They had arrived in front of a grand, marble-crafted bank. At least two stories tall, its Baroque-style domed ceiling was majestic, and the name ¡°Gringotts¡± was elegantly etched in flowing script. Victor stepped forward and pushed open the doors. On either side, goblins bowed to them and opened a second set of doors. Victor glanced at the inscription on the door and shook his head internally. ¡°Lacking imagination, these goblins,¡± he mused. ¡°If I ran a bank, I¡¯d inscribe a curse to reveal thieves immediately and ensure absolute security. Maybe something dramatic, like: Beware¡ªif you touch a single coin that isn¡¯t yours, death will befall you instantly.¡± Once inside, a sharp-voiced goblin greeted them. ¡°Muggle currency exchanges are at the first counter to your right. For deposits or withdrawals, go to the second counter. To open an account, proceed to the third counter. For all other matters, please approach the last counter! And no crowding¡ªform an orderly queue!¡± The grandeur of the bank¡¯s interior left them momentarily speechless. The ceiling soared three stories high, gleaming white marble covering every surface. Behind the counters on either side of the hall sat nearly a dozen goblins, some inspecting gemstones through eyepieces, others jotting down entries in massive ledgers. Beyond the counters, countless doors opened and closed as goblins escorted customers in and out. Victor turned to the Grangers. ¡°I have my own business to attend to at the third counter. You can handle your exchange at the first. If you need anything, come find me.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Mr. Granger replied. Victor approached the third counter, which was relatively quiet. A goblin in a crimson-and-gold robe was idly jotting down notes when Victor arrived. Without much interest, the goblin asked, ¡°How may I assist you, sir?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to open an account for my monthly salary transfers from Hogwarts.¡± ¡°In that case, please provide your identification and proof of employment at Hogwarts.¡± Victor handed over his folded documents. The goblin scrutinized them, its eyes suddenly widening in astonishment as it double-checked the details. ¡°¡­You¡¯re Mr. Victor Vanderboom?!¡± ¡°Yes. Why?¡± As soon as Victor confirmed his identity, the goblin¡¯s demeanor changed drastically. It became overwhelmingly enthusiastic, nearly lunging across the counter to shake Victor¡¯s hand¡ªthough Victor deftly stepped back just in time to avoid contact. The goblin¡¯s glowing expression was undeterred by the distance. ¡°Mr. Vanderboom! We at Gringotts have long admired you! It¡¯s been a pity that we couldn¡¯t locate your residence to send our correspondence. Please know that our respect for you is absolutely genuine!¡± ¡°The director himself has instructed that if you were ever to open an account here, we would waive all fees and offer you the bank¡¯s highest privileges!¡± ¡°Please provide us with an address, and we¡¯ll send you Gringotts gift packages during the holidays. Additionally, you¡¯ll receive access to the highest-level vaults and the most favorable loan rates¡­¡± Victor interrupted coolly, ¡°Why all the special treatment? Do you want something from me?¡± ¡°Ah, not a favor¡ªmore like a humble request.¡± The goblin¡¯s grin stretched nearly to its pointed ears as it leaned forward conspiratorially, its nose nearly poking Victor in the face. Victor frowned and took another step back. ¡°What¡¯s the request?¡± The goblin whispered, ¡°We¡¯ve heard of your extraordinary talent for prophecy¡ªhow you successfully predicted Professor Trelawney¡¯s accident, down to the exact timing.¡± Victor replied dryly, ¡°And?¡± ¡°That¡¯s nothing short of a miracle! Your talent is beyond compare!¡± ¡°Get to the point.¡± ¡°Well, because of your unparalleled ability to predict events, we at Gringotts humbly request¡­ Could you forecast the fluctuations in the materials trading market for us?¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± ------- you can read more chapter on my patreon pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 15: Another Deal
¡°Not a game¡ªit''s a materials trading market, Mr. Van Der Boom.¡± ¡°There are extensive trade exchanges in the magical communities across nations, and materials trading is one of the most critical aspects. If you could predict the precise timings of price drops and hikes, Gringotts could stock up¡ªoh, no, I mean prepare the necessary supplies in advance to ensure wizards never run out of magical materials.¡± ¡°And if that''s not feasible, even second-best would work. If you''d be willing to help us forecast trends in the Muggle stock market, we''d be eternally grateful¡­¡± The goblin¡¯s words grew increasingly far-fetched, but its enthusiasm only mounted as it delved into various financial terms like "bottom fishing" and "venture capital." Its gaze toward Victor turned progressively fervent, almost reverent. Victor interrupted after listening for a while. ¡°You think I can actually do these things?¡± He looked at the goblin oddly. ¡°If I could, why wouldn¡¯t I just invest myself and make money?¡± The goblin¡¯s stream of chatter came to an abrupt halt. It took a moment to return from its utopian daydream, stammering: ¡°Uh¡­ because of your noble character? You wouldn¡¯t exploit divination for profit?¡± ¡°If that''s your reasoning, consider this: the cost of precise foresight into the future isn''t financial. The price might be an essential part of you¡ªlike emotions, desires, or even a part of your body.¡± ¡°Moreover, not all goblins or wizards qualify for such transactions. Only those with exceptionally strong desires or unique talents could even attempt it.¡± The goblin sat frozen in its chair. After Victor finished, he picked up the account details the goblin had hastily prepared earlier and gave it a brief glance before pocketing it. He nodded to the goblin and said softly, ¡°My address is 7 Wisteria Road. If you have further ideas, feel free to contact me¡­¡± As he turned to leave, the goblin suddenly stood up and bowed deeply. Draped in crimson and gold attire, its movements exuded genuine sincerity. The goblin''s head dipped so low that its nose nearly touched the table. Under the illumination of hundreds of white candles burning on the gilded ceiling, the gesture carried an air of solemnity. In a formal tone, the goblin declared: ¡°No need, Mr. Van Der Boom. We accept your terms.¡± ¡°Every goblin is willing to part with their hair, eyes, even liver or heart, in exchange for wealth. Whatever you desire is negotiable¡ªeven the very desire we have to acquire wealth itself.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re willing to proceed with this deal, please meet with our supervisor. He has been waiting for you for quite some time.¡± At 3 PM, the Grangers, who had just exchanged their currency for Galleons, waited in the main hall but saw no sign of Victor. After inquiring with a nearby goblin, they were told, ¡°Please wait a bit longer.¡± Mrs. Granger sighed anxiously, glanced at her husband, and couldn¡¯t resist counting their Galleons again. ¡°Five pounds to a Galleon, but there¡¯s a maximum exchange limit. Hermione, you¡¯ll need to spend wisely.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Mum,¡± Hermione replied cheerfully. ¡°Professor McGonagall mentioned that Hogwarts is a boarding school, so there aren¡¯t many opportunities to spend money on campus.¡± ¡°I hope that¡¯s true. I just feel like the system isn¡¯t exactly fair¡­¡± ¡°Enough, Mary,¡± Mr. Granger interjected, stopping his wife. He shook his head, leaving Hermione puzzled and unaware of what her parents wanted to discuss. As a child, Hermione wasn¡¯t perceptive enough to notice subtle emotions, but the Grangers had clearly felt the goblins'' impatience toward them during the currency exchange. While wizards might not overtly discriminate against Muggle-born wizards, prejudice against Muggles was palpable.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Had it not been for the relatively kind attitude of the Hogwarts professors, the Grangers might have reconsidered sending Hermione to the school. Ten minutes later, Victor finally emerged from one of the rooms, accompanied by a goblin who bowed repeatedly, treating Victor with an almost shocking level of respect. The Grangers were taken aback. Was this really the same goblin who had been so dismissive toward them? ¡°Thank you for waiting,¡± Victor said as he approached them. ¡°It¡¯s no problem, Professor,¡± Mr. Granger replied. ¡°Was everything alright?¡± ¡°Oh, nothing troublesome,¡± Victor said briefly. ¡°Just some discussions with the goblins about financial investments. They seemed one hundred and twenty percent satisfied with the potential side effects of our deal.¡± ¡°Side effects can be a good thing?¡± Mr. Granger asked, somewhat confused. ¡°I suppose it must have been a mutually beneficial agreement?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± After a bit more small talk, they didn¡¯t press the matter further. Instead, they followed Victor to purchase school supplies. Before leaving Gringotts, Victor discreetly slipped a small package into his pocket. When he exited the bank, the goblins stationed at the doors seemed already informed, bowing respectfully as they said in thin voices: ¡°Gringotts always welcomes you, sir.¡± Outside, the bustling street of Diagon Alley instantly swept away the somber atmosphere from moments before. Directly opposite Gringotts stood a Quidditch store, its window display featuring two crossed broomsticks with a sign that read, ¡°Nimbus 2000 ¨C Maximum Speed.¡± However, as first-year students were not allowed to bring broomsticks, Victor led Hermione to Madam Malkin¡¯s Robes for All Occasions first. There, they ordered three custom black cloaks for each of them before heading to Flourish and Blotts. Flourish and Blotts was a bookshop crammed with towering piles of books that reached the ceiling, making the already-small space feel even more compact. Wizards filled every available corner. ¡°Let me see¡­ we still need The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 and Intermediate Transfiguration. Merlin, I wish school would never start.¡± ¡°Fred, no swearing!¡± At the entrance, a pair of red-haired children bickered while holding a book with a cover that constantly changed. Hermione found herself intrigued. One of the red-haired boys caught her looking and gave her a friendly smile. Hermione, startled but pleased, smiled back. For the first time, she felt welcomed. Once inside, she carefully read from a handwritten list, retrieved the pre-packaged first-year books, and approached a young clerk. ¡°Excuse me, sir. Do you have books on history, culture, and magical artifacts?¡± Her earnest expression immediately caught the clerk¡¯s attention. ¡°We do,¡± the young clerk replied kindly. ¡°For history, the most popular choices include A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, and Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century. There¡¯s also Hogwarts: A History, but that¡¯s available for borrowing at the school library.¡± ¡°Ah, which one would you like?¡± ¡°All of them.¡± ¡°All¡­ of them?¡± The clerk froze for two seconds before his eyes widened. ¡°Yes, all of them,¡± Hermione confirmed with a firm nod. ¡°I want to master all magical knowledge by the first semester¡¯s end to ensure I can ace my final exams. That means I must fully grasp magical history and spells at least a month before then. Additionally, to match the magical knowledge of wizard-born students, I need to understand fundamental magical events and concepts before school starts.¡± Having delivered this lengthy explanation in one breath, Hermione blinked at the clerk with genuine sincerity. Both Victor and the clerk inhaled sharply. Victor looked at Hermione with newfound respect. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll get the books for you,¡± the clerk stammered, retreating stiffly. Hermione noticed the odd reaction and turned to Victor for reassurance. ¡°Professor Van Der¡­ Van Der Boom, did I say something wrong?¡± ¡°Just call me Professor Victor, Miss Granger,¡± Victor said, shaking his head. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything wrong. You¡¯re just very¡­ thorough. But perhaps consider balancing hard work with rest.¡± Hermione looked at him in surprise. ¡°Don¡¯t you work as hard, Professor?¡± Victor paused, contemplative. How could he respond? He didn¡¯t, not really. He was lazy, evident in the fact that he hadn¡¯t even finished the books Hermione was about to buy despite being in the magical world for so long. Still, after his moment of silence, Victor regained his composure and replied matter-of-factly: ¡°Let¡¯s put it this way, Miss Granger.¡± ¡°Where I come from, working too hard tends to make others¡­ uncomfortable. For the sake of harmony, I think it¡¯s better if I don¡¯t push myself too much.¡± After all, if Victor exerted himself fully, countless magical organizations would lose sleep trying to handle him. Any further effort on his part might even earn him a new title: The Overlord of Overachievement. ------- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 16: The Weasleys and the Wand Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of what Viktor had said. She struggled to understand why someone else would feel unhappy just because he put in effort. After thinking it over and still coming up short, she could only shake her head and admit, "I don¡¯t understand, Professor." "It¡¯s alright; it doesn¡¯t really concern you," Viktor replied with a small nod. "If you want to read those books, go ahead. Learning more is never a bad thing." Hermione glanced at her parents for permission. When the Grangers nodded encouragingly, she beamed and eagerly picked out over a dozen books before rushing to the counter. Due to the large purchase, Flourish and Blotts gifted her a small, undetectable extension bag to carry them all. As she carefully packed her books, a red-haired boy from earlier returned, curiously carrying a few third-year textbooks. The boy was tall and lanky, with freckles scattered across his face, but not as tall as the young store clerk. He had a mischievous grin that gave off an air of unreliability, making him look like an ordinary third-year student who thrived on trouble. "Professor? Are you a new professor at Hogwarts?" he asked with eager curiosity. "Yes, I teach Divination." "Oh, so you¡¯re replacing Professor Trelawney?" The boy¡¯s face lit up with sudden understanding. It seemed the news of Trelawney¡¯s accident had already spread through the wizarding community. Viktor gave a nonchalant nod in response. The boy grinned and introduced himself, "I¡¯m Fred Weasley, Professor. I might take your class next term, though I haven¡¯t decided yet. My brother Percy thinks I should take Arithmancy. Which do you think is more important?" "Either is fine," Viktor said indifferently. "Arithmancy involves mathematical calculations, while Divination focuses on sensing and intuition. Choose the one that interests you more." As Viktor spoke, another boy¡ªidentical to Fred¡ªappeared, grinning broadly and holding what looked like a novelty item. Faint calls of "George? George!" echoed from somewhere in the store. With a playful gleam in his eyes, George raised his hand, preparing to toss a piece of candy toward Fred, who remained blissfully unaware. "But..." Viktor suddenly raised his hand, holding it steady about a foot to his side. The candy George tossed veered unexpectedly, bounced off a chandelier on the ceiling, changed direction mid-air, and landed neatly in Viktor¡¯s waiting palm. Without missing a beat, Viktor closed his fingers around the candy, the wrapper clearly marked with Zonko¡¯s Joke Shop logo, as if it had been thrown to him intentionally.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Raising an eyebrow, Viktor held the candy toward Fred and remarked, "But if you¡¯re planning to use candies like these to skip my class, you¡¯d better stick with Arithmancy. I catch them every time." In the distance, George¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. "Cool!!" he exclaimed, running over excitedly. "How did you catch that?" Viktor handed the candy back to him. "Divination¡¯s intuition." Both twins¡¯ eyes lit up with admiration. George had clearly seen Viktor move his hand into position before he even threw the candy. Every movement Viktor made seemed perfectly predicted. This was way cooler than any other subject! Viktor, however, hadn¡¯t caught the candy to show off. If he hadn¡¯t, it would¡¯ve hit him. Acting purely on instinct, he had avoided trouble. Just as the twins gazed at Viktor with newfound respect, their mother appeared¡ªa stern, red-haired witch Viktor had seen at the store entrance earlier. She marched over, immediately grabbing George by the ear. "Causing trouble again, are we? Apologize at once!" "Mom, no¡ªI didn¡¯t mean¡ªwait, I wasn¡¯t even¡ª" "And your brother is still waiting for you! How dare you waste time here?" Molly scolded them sharply while hurriedly apologizing to Viktor, then bustled the twins out of the store. The two scrambled as their mother muttered about a younger brother still shopping elsewhere. As they were dragged away, Fred waved dramatically and called out, "Professor Viktor, we¡¯ll remember to take your class¡ª!" Viktor watched their retreating figures with a blank expression. ...Ah, suddenly he wasn¡¯t so sure about teaching anymore. Those two seemed like trouble. Hermione, now finished packing her books into the magically expanded bag, hurried to Viktor¡¯s side. She wore a satisfied smile that would send shivers down the spines of slackers and lazy students. "Let¡¯s go," Viktor said. As they walked, Mrs. Granger suddenly looked concerned. "Hermione, do you have enough money left to buy an owl? They¡¯re not cheap, especially with the food." "!" Hermione froze for a moment, then frowned in realization. "Uh-oh! I might not have enough..." Recalling how many books she¡¯d purchased, Viktor quickly estimated the cost. Magical books were as expensive as their Muggle counterparts, often costing several Galleons each. Considering Hermione¡¯s hefty haul, she had likely spent most of her money. After a moment¡¯s thought, Viktor suggested, "Hogwarts has a communal owlery. The acceptance letter didn¡¯t say pets were mandatory, so skipping the purchase should be fine." Hermione double-checked her acceptance letter and exclaimed joyfully, "You¡¯re right!" She promptly decided to forgo buying an owl. Still, they stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium to browse, as Viktor wanted to buy one for himself. Since he didn¡¯t live on the school grounds full-time, having a personal courier was essential. He chose a barn owl. Although Hermione thought its name matched Viktor¡¯s serious demeanor, the fluffy, round creature hardly lived up to its spooky reputation¡ªapart from its peculiar hooting. With the owl purchased, they headed to Ollivanders for wands. As they entered, Hermione couldn¡¯t resist poking the owl¡¯s soft feathers through the cage. "Jingle." The bell above the door chimed as they walked in. Mr. Ollivander was just finishing up with another young wizard. Piles of opened wand boxes lay scattered across the chairs. When Viktor and Hermione entered, he glanced up from behind the counter. "Oh, another student heading to Hogwarts this year?" Ollivander asked kindly, adjusting his glasses. "You must be here to get a wand, young lady." "I need one too," Viktor added. Ollivander looked surprised, as it was unusual for adult wizards to lack a wand. However, he quickly composed himself and nodded. "I don¡¯t recall seeing you before, sir. Are you new to England?" "Yes. I¡¯m teaching at Hogwarts now." "Ah, that explains it. You have a rather distinctive presence. I believe I have just the wand for you." After rummaging for a moment, Ollivander retrieved a wand box from the counter. "Thirteen inches, yew wood with a dragon heartstring core, rigid. It¡¯s also dusted with powdered unicorn horn, giving it a faint, subtle glow in total darkness." ------- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 17: You will definitely become a great wizard that everyone fears! Victor tested the wand and found it acceptable, so he did not ask for a replacement. After all, his casting methods differed significantly from most people in this world, and having or not having a wand made little difference to him. However, Hermione was quite excited. She ended up with a wand made of vine wood, paired with dragon heartstring, 10? inches long, and rather flexible. Ollivander commented that it suited her intelligence and diligence, and the wand''s flexibility allowed for a broader range of spellcasting styles. The Grangers happily paid several Galleons. By the time the sky turned gray, the day''s shopping spree had finally come to an end. Hermione and the Grangers, laden with large and small bags, returned to the Leaky Cauldron, still reluctant to leave. In the early evening, the pub was still bustling with wizards and witches with their children. Some of the children had already returned home via Floo Powder, leaving the adults to enjoy a drink before heading back. As the Grangers passed by, a few wizards took hearty gulps of their drinks and lamented: "Thank goodness! I thought I was going to drop dead from exhaustion, but at least I finally sent that brat off. Did you know he even nagged me to buy him a Nimbus 2000?" "Mine was the same! I can''t wait for those professors to take over. Keeping him at home was driving me insane." Professor Victor, feeling like the butt of a cosmic joke, froze in silence as he descended the stairs. ...Thankfully, he taught third years. When the topic turned to raising children, it reminded him of a witch friend from a fairy tale world. She was a witch who grew an impressive amount of lettuce. But because her lettuce was so appealing, neighbors couldn''t resist stealing it. This led her to strike a deal: one child in exchange for a head of lettuce. She eventually took in the family''s child and raised her until adulthood. That kind of patience was something Victor deeply admired. The only issue was that years later, the witch blinded the girl''s romantic partner... Ahem. Victor''s mind wandered until the Grangers reached the door, preparing to bid him farewell. "Thank you very much for guiding us today, Professor Vanderboom," said Mr. Granger sincerely. "Hermione is new to the wizarding world and knows nothing yet. We¡¯ll rely on you to look after her in the future." "It¡¯s no trouble," Victor replied with a nod before adding, "But I only teach third-year students and above, so I probably won¡¯t cross paths with Hermione much in the next few years. Besides, I doubt she¡¯ll choose my class." "Ah?" Mr. Granger looked confused. "But Hermione probably will. She¡¯s quite interested in Divination."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Victor, however, shook his head. "It¡¯s not about interest." "The aura around her is very dim. She likely won¡¯t get far in Divination. If she truly wants to study it, I¡¯d recommend trying Arithmancy." "I see..." Mr. Granger froze awkwardly, while Hermione looked utterly shocked. Moments later, her eyes brimmed with tears. What could be more crushing than being told by a professor that you had no talent before even starting school? Hermione, who had always been the top student in her class, had never experienced such a blow. To tell her she couldn¡¯t learn something¡ªit was more hurtful than saying she wasn¡¯t trying hard enough. But Victor meant exactly what he said. Noticing Hermione¡¯s sadness, he added: "There¡¯s no need to be upset, Miss Granger. I have many witch and wizard friends who have no talent for Divination, yet they¡¯ve become some of the most feared sorcerers. Some excel in curses, while others are masters of large-scale offensive magic. Divination was never a necessity for them¡ªjust an optional step on their path to success." "I¡¯m confident that with your dedication, you¡¯ll excel in fields where you¡¯re more naturally gifted." Hermione¡¯s mood visibly improved. "Oh... oh! Thank you, Professor." As Victor waved goodbye and parted ways with her, Hermione couldn¡¯t shake a troubling thought: ¡°Most feared sorcerers¡ªmost feared??¡± Something about that phrasing felt off! Would wizards really make that their life¡¯s goal?! Having completed his shopping, Victor finally returned home from Diagon Alley. He tossed a fluttering owl and a small stack of books onto his desk, then placed a self-stirring cauldron he had bought for fun atop his fireplace. Yes, Victor was the target audience for self-stirring cauldrons. To Hermione¡¯s shock and disapproval, he had calmly purchased this heretical tool for potion-making and brought it home. In fact, he couldn¡¯t be more satisfied with it. A cauldron that stirs itself? The witches he once knew would have gone mad with envy! Witches in the fairy tale world often had multiple jobs and rarely specialized in potion brewing. If the cauldron could stir itself, why do it manually? Even Baba Yaga was impressed. She remarked that from now on, she wouldn¡¯t have to keep checking her cauldron while brewing something. The kettle by the sink seemed equally pleased, bowing slightly as if relieved of one of its own burdens. ...The next month flew by in no time. With little to do, Victor mostly stayed home drafting his lesson plans and replying to the various letters sent to him. The rest of his time was spent tending to plants and playing with wands. When it came to letters, Victor had even made a small chain for his owl, allowing it to come and go freely through the mist. On the morning of September 1st, Victor tied his lesson plan to the owl¡¯s leg and brought it to the balcony. "Everything depends on you now," he said solemnly. "Hoo?" The owl blinked, its clear eyes full of confusion as it lay belly-up in Victor¡¯s hands. "...You need to fly quickly. Ideally, get to Hogwarts before noon today. Then pretend to be very tired when you deliver the letter to Professor McGonagall. That way, I can tell her I sent it yesterday, but the owl was too slow." ???? Don¡¯t make things hard for the owl! The owl looked even more bewildered, unable to comprehend the human¡¯s mutterings. Still, Victor cheerfully tossed it into the air, watching it slowly vanish into the mist... Baba Yaga, watching from the living room, commented slowly, "Relax. The mist has drifted back to southern England. Based on your earlier tests, that¡¯s about a morning¡¯s flight away." "Excellent. Thank you, Baba," Victor said casually. Yes, laziness had struck again. Despite having ample time to write his lesson plan, he had only written three lines in the first 30 days, finishing the rest in a single overnight sprint. "What¡¯s your plan for getting to Hogwarts this time? Using mirrors like last time?" Baba Yaga asked lazily. "No, no," Victor replied. "Dumbledore knows we can¡¯t use Floo Powder here and specifically gave me the location of a nearby colleague to travel from. He said I can return to Hogwarts from there." "A colleague? Who?" "Severus Snape, I believe. He teaches Potions," Victor said easily. "Dumbledore gave me his address¡ªSpinner¡¯s End. It¡¯s nearby." ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 18: Spiders Tail Since tonight would feature a formal banquet, Professor McGonagall had written in advance to inform Victor that he should report in formal attire. Victor''s formal robe, purchased from Madam Malkin''s Robes for All Occasions, was not very different from his other outfits. It was a pure black cloak paired with a black shirt and trousers. The only difference was the intricate, vintage patterns adorning the collar of the robe. On his first day, he needed to bring quite a few things. In addition to his essential antique hand mirror, he carried a briefcase charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm to hold all his luggage. Before leaving, he glanced into the mirror one last time. ¡°Hmm... wouldn¡¯t a brooch look good on this collar?¡± After examining his plain outfit, he casually plucked a luminous blue nightshade flower from the windowsill and pinned it to his collar. Satisfied, he stepped into the mirror. --- Knockturn Alley, nestled in a corner of a major English city, was essentially a slum. If Victor hadn¡¯t scouted it in advance, he wouldn¡¯t have believed a Potions professor would reside in such a place. His previous acquaintances at least lived in a gilded cave, if not somewhere more extravagant. Victor emerged from a shattered mirror at the corner of Knockturn Alley. His black leather boots crunched on discarded cabinet debris as he dusted himself off and stepped out of the dim recess. The alley bordered a filthy river, with overgrown weeds on both sides. In the distance, a towering smokestack¡ªremnants of an abandoned mill¡ªadded an oppressive aura to the already eerie atmosphere. Victor headed straight for the last house in a row of brick buildings. An elderly Muggle passing by froze in terror upon seeing him, stumbling back several steps before collapsing onto the trash-strewn road. As Victor passed, the old man shakily muttered, ¡°Good heavens... as if this alley wasn¡¯t ominous enough already.¡± Victor ignored him and stopped in front of the last brick house, knocking on the door. ¡°Knock, knock, knock.¡± The old wooden door creaked open a few seconds later, revealing a pale, waxen face framed by greasy black hair hanging like curtains. ¡°Good afternoon,¡± the man said flatly. ¡°Come in. You¡¯re a bit late; Minerva is probably already setting up the hall.¡± ¡°Apologies, I was delayed by packing,¡± Victor replied without batting an eye, conveniently forgetting how he had been tying a letter to an owl just ten minutes earlier. Snape didn¡¯t press further. He stepped back to let Victor in, his eyes briefly lingering on the blue flower at Victor¡¯s collar. Victor entered the house. Snape¡¯s residence was sparsely furnished, clearly not a permanent dwelling. The living room contained only a fireplace on the right, a worn sofa, and walls lined with bookshelves.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Albus mentioned that you might connect your office fireplace to the Floo Network. Once you arrive, you can visit him first. Then meet Minerva; she¡¯ll explain the electives to you.¡± Snape¡¯s tone was neutral, free from any unpleasant undertones, likely because Victor was a colleague and his somber appearance matched the Slytherin aesthetic. Victor nodded to show he understood. However, Snape couldn¡¯t help glancing again at the flower on Victor¡¯s chest. ¡°What flower is that?¡± Snape asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it before.¡± Victor followed his gaze and looked at the ¡°brooch¡± he had improvised. ¡°Nightshade. It¡¯s a rare variety from my homeland. I doubt it exists in England.¡± ¡°I assume it has magical properties?¡± ¡°Yes. Some say blue nightshade allows one to hear the voices of the dead, but that¡¯s a myth. The petals and pollen are toxic and cause hallucinations. Excessive inhalation leads to death in blissful illusions.¡± Seeing Snape¡¯s subtle reaction, Victor added, ¡°A single flower merely lifts one¡¯s mood slightly. It takes a whole field of them to be fatal.¡± ¡°I see. Its effects are indeed noticeable¡ªI can feel it¡­¡± Snape¡¯s gaze brightened, clearly contemplating its potential value. ¡°...A potent hallucinogen, mild toxicity¡­ It could be an excellent substitute for Mimosa and Peppermint in modifying Euphoria and Amortentia, perhaps even useful in poison development¡­¡± Snape paced back and forth, muttering unfamiliar terms under his breath. Victor remained unfazed; he was accustomed to individuals like Snape. Obsession over potions? He had once seen a woman so obsessed with a pair of red dancing shoes that she ended up having to cut off her feet. Finally, Snape stopped pacing and calmly asked, ¡°I suppose you wouldn¡¯t mind parting with that flower? Name your price...¡± ¡°It¡¯s not about the price,¡± Victor replied. ¡°I can give you this one. However, I still need it for now. Formal attire typically includes a brooch, but I forgot to buy one, so I¡¯m using this as a substitute to make an impression on the students.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll give it to you after the banquet.¡± ¡°After the banquet¡­¡± Snape repeated the phrase, looking dissatisfied. Unfortunately, his house had neither a brooch to trade nor formal attire. For years, he had always shown up to opening ceremonies dressed as a giant bat... ¡°Very well. Thank you,¡± Snape finally said, his tone dragging slightly. Victor nodded. ¡°One thing¡ªif you plan to experiment on the flower, you¡¯d better finish before midnight. This type of nightshade only remains fresh and magically potent for twelve hours after being picked. After that, it wilts and loses its magic.¡± ¡°Preservation charms won¡¯t work?¡± Snape asked. ¡°No. Its magical properties cannot be preserved.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you replicate it?¡± ¡°No. Its glowing blue color is a magical effect.¡± Snape¡¯s interest only grew. His gaze fixated on the flower, but he eventually held his tongue. Turning briskly, he walked over to a small box, retrieved a handful of glowing green Floo powder, and tossed it into the fireplace. The flames turned emerald green instantly. ¡°Off you go,¡± Snape said, tilting his head toward Victor. ¡°Destination: ¡®Hogwarts Potions Office.¡¯¡± With that, he stepped into the flames and vanished. Victor followed suit, stepping into the fire and feeling the cool, flame-like tendrils lick his cheeks as he murmured, ¡°Hogwarts Potions Office.¡± -- After a dizzying spin, Victor found himself in a dimly lit office. Glass jars filled with herbs and preserved animal organs lined the walls, and the damp air smelled faintly of mildew. This place was clearly underground. There were no windows, and the only source of light was a candle on a desk buried under books. In the corner, a cauldron bubbled with a potion. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Victor asked curiously. ¡°Felix Felicis,¡± Snape replied. Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck, was an extremely difficult potion to brew, reserved for Potions Masters and worth a fortune. For Snape, however, it was routine work. Victor, unaware of its value, glanced at it briefly and said nothing more. Snape bit his lip subtly, frustrated. He had hoped Victor would show interest so he could offer an insider deal and perhaps secure the flower early. Do seers not need Felix Felicis? It made sense. Seers could foresee accidents and didn¡¯t rely on luck. ¡°There¡¯s the way out,¡± Snape finally said impassively, pointing to a passage. ¡°The hall is upstairs. You¡¯ll find Professor McGonagall there. I have matters to attend to, so I won¡¯t be accompanying you.¡± ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 19: Chaos on the Eve of School Opening When Victor arrived at the Great Hall, lunchtime had already passed. The hall had changed quite a bit since his last visit. The four long tables that had been moved aside for interviews were now back in place, each adorned at the corners with crests representing a badger, eagle, snake, and lion. Professor McGonagall stood in the center of the hall, busy decorating with Hagrid¡¯s help. ¡°I believe it¡¯s not Christmas today,¡± she said, gesturing at a tree, ¡°so perhaps we could move that over there a bit. Thank you, Hagrid.¡± As she spoke, she waved her wand, conjuring four colorful ribbons behind the professors¡¯ table. ¡°Leave the rest to you,¡± she added. ¡°No problem, Professor,¡± Hagrid responded cheerfully. After finishing her spell, Professor McGonagall put away her wand and turned toward Victor with a kindly gaze. ¡°Professor Vanderboom, good afternoon.¡± ¡°Your office is ready, and you can put your belongings there. By the way, where is your syllabus?¡± ¡°...Huh? It hasn¡¯t arrived yet?¡± Victor feigned surprise. ¡°Must be a delay with the owl. I sent it ages ago.¡± McGonagall¡¯s sharp eyes narrowed slightly. Her years of teaching experience immediately brought to mind countless familiar excuses: ¡°Professor, you didn¡¯t receive it? I swear I turned it in!¡± or ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Professor! I left it at home!¡± It was the classic student ploy¡ªfeign innocence unless questioned. Still, considering Victor was a professor, she didn¡¯t press further. However, she hadn¡¯t expected someone who outwardly resembled Snape to harbor this kind of personality. Her gaze softened. Well, at least his temperament isn¡¯t like Severus¡¯s. Victor pretended not to notice the subtle shifts in her expression. ¡°Professor McGonagall, is there anything else I should know?¡± McGonagall snapped back to attention. ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Efficiently, she pulled a parchment from her robe and handed it to Victor. ¡°Here¡¯s the elective course schedule for this year. Your class typically has about a dozen students, though there will be more in third year.¡± ¡°For the first week, I¡¯d suggest teaching something engaging to encourage them to continue with Divination, as they have the option to drop electives after the first week.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Victor replied.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. In truth, he planned to make the third-year lessons as uninteresting as possible¡ªhe had no desire to teach too many chattering kids. Victor glanced at the schedule. Divination classes averaged two periods a day, occasionally three, which included the single weekly session for seventh years due to their internships. His first classes were with the seventh and third years on Monday. Folding the schedule, he slipped it into his pocket. ¡°Got it. Thank you, Professor McGonagall.¡± Meanwhile, Harry Potter boarded the train to Hogwarts with a mix of excitement and nerves. The past month had been unusually pleasant. After Hagrid escorted him back to the Dursleys, he had given them a firm warning. As a result, Harry hadn¡¯t been forced to sleep in the cupboard or run errands like before. Harry and Ron Weasley shared a compartment on the train. The small compartment had two rows of facing seats with red cushions, giving Harry the faint feeling of stepping back into the Victorian era. ¡°My mum has a distant cousin who¡¯s an accountant, but we never talk about him. What about you? Is this your first time learning about magic? I heard you grew up with Muggles,¡± Ron said. ¡°Yes. But receiving the acceptance letter wasn¡¯t my first encounter with magic. I accidentally wandered into¡­ Professor Victor¡¯s house,¡± Harry explained. ¡°Victor? Do we have a professor by that name?¡± Ron frowned, trying to recall. None of his brothers had mentioned such a name. ¡°What does he teach?¡± ¡°Divination,¡± Harry replied. At the mention of this, he couldn¡¯t help but remember the day he spent at Baba Yaga¡¯s peculiar cottage¡ªit was an experience he knew he¡¯d never forget. He added, ¡°His house had lots of magical things, like a mirror you could travel through and a teacup that moved on its own.¡± ¡°Do you have things like that at home?¡± ¡°A traveling mirror? Never heard of that,¡± Ron said, astonished. ¡°But we¡¯ve got a teapot that moves.¡± ¡°That mirror was special¡ªit let me¡ª¡± Before Harry could finish, the compartment door slid open. A blonde boy stood in the doorway, flanked by two large, slow-witted cronies. ¡°You¡¯re Harry Potter, aren¡¯t you?¡± The boy¡¯s eyes locked on Harry. They had met briefly in Diagon Alley under less-than-pleasant circumstances. ¡°Yes,¡± Harry answered. ¡°I¡¯m Draco Malfoy. These are Crabbe and Goyle. We¡¯re pure-bloods,¡± Malfoy said, his nose tilted upward. Draco. The Latin word for dragon. Combined with his surname, it sounded laughably pompous in English. Ron struggled to suppress his laughter, his face turning red. Malfoy scowled. ¡°What¡¯s so funny? I know who you are¡ªyou¡¯re a Weasley. Everyone knows your family can barely afford to eat, let alone buy proper wands. Careful yours doesn¡¯t spit out slugs when you cast a spell.¡± ¡°Looking for a fight, are you?¡± Ron retorted. Ignoring him, Malfoy extended a hand toward Harry. ¡°You know where you belong, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Harry¡¯s voice turned icy. ¡°With Ron.¡± Malfoy¡¯s smug expression faltered, then twisted in anger. ¡°Hmph. If your parents had chosen their friends wisely, they might still be alive¡­¡± Harry and Ron shot to their feet. A fiery rage surged through Harry, sharpening his thoughts. ¡°Malfoy,¡± Harry said with a cold smile. ¡°You think your family¡¯s so noble, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°But I heard from Borgin that your father¡¯s been scrambling to buy alchemical items to hide things. Afraid of a Ministry raid, are you? If they find anything, you¡¯ll be visiting your family in Azkaban. Then you¡¯ll be just like me¡ªan orphan.¡± Malfoy¡¯s face drained of color, then flushed red, then purple. Even Ron was stunned. Wasn¡¯t Harry raised by Muggles? How does he know all this?! Harry, regaining his composure, realized his words had been harsh. But remembering Malfoy¡¯s sneering remark about his parents, he felt no regret. He only wished he¡¯d overheard more at Borgin and Burkes to humiliate Malfoy further. Malfoy stood speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally, he snarled, ¡°Get them!¡± Crabbe lunged forward, followed by Goyle. Malfoy rolled up his sleeves, ready to join the fray. Ron leapt in to shield Harry, taking a punch so Harry could draw his wand. In that moment, Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and shouted: ¡°Waddiwasi!¡± ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 20: Sir, Believe Me
One Hour Later¡ª ¡°So, are you saying this is your justification for sending Malfoy to the hospital wing?¡± Professor McGonagall asked sternly. ¡°Professor, I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± Harry protested, desperately trying to defend himself. ¡°I really didn¡¯t intend to attack him! I used Serpensortia to summon a black snake just to scare him, to stop him from hitting me again¡ªwho would¡¯ve thought that the snake didn¡¯t even touch him? It merely slithered past his leg, and he fainted from fright!¡± ¡°So, in other words, Mr. Malfoy¡¯s cries of ¡®It bit me!¡¯ and ¡®It¡¯s going to kill me!¡¯ on the train were all... what? Hallucinations?¡± ¡°Exactly! It¡¯s all in his head... Everyone saw it!¡± Oh no, Professor McGonagall, please believe me! Harry tried to win her over with an earnest look, hoping to sway the cold, stern face of the tall witch who stood before him¡ªnone other than Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. But she wasn¡¯t buying it. Her icy stare remained fixed on Harry. Percy Weasley, Ron¡¯s prefect brother, had personally escorted him here. Initially, Percy had only intended to mediate a conflict after hearing about the incident. But, as Percy explained: ¡°When we arrived, Malfoy was already sprawled on the floor, with Crabbe and Goyle too shocked to speak. All they could manage was to repeatedly say that Harry was going to kill them.¡± This alarming situation prompted Percy to act immediately, hauling Ron and Harry off to face Professor McGonagall. In the dim light of her office, illuminated by a lone lantern, Professor McGonagall¡¯s face seemed even more severe, like an enraged hawk, radiating an oppressive aura. A few seconds later, Ron couldn¡¯t help but jump in to defend Harry. ¡°Professor, the snake really didn¡¯t touch Malfoy! I only saw it brush past his leg before he fainted! It¡¯s all on him...¡± ¡°What did the snake look like?¡± Professor McGonagall cut him off. ¡°Oh! It was no thicker than a finger and as long as an arm. Sure, its black scales looked a bit scary, but it wasn¡¯t venomous and wasn¡¯t even remotely dangerous. It couldn¡¯t even be considered an actual magical attack.¡± ¡°And, Professor, it was Malfoy who insulted our families first. He¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Professor McGonagall¡¯s sudden, sharp tone made Ron jump. She glared at them, her expression filled with exasperation. ¡°Do you two not understand the point, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter?¡± ¡°The issue isn¡¯t whether your magic was frightening or not. The issue is why you felt the need to use it on the train! Disputes, no matter how unjust they may seem, should be resolved by seeking help from a prefect¡ªnot by recklessly using magic against your peers!¡± ¡°Mr. Weasley, Potter might be new to magic, but you are not. Do you truly believe your brother wouldn¡¯t stand up for you?¡± ¡°I would, Professor!¡± Percy, still standing at the door, interjected.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. But Professor McGonagall ignored him, her stern gaze fixed on Harry and Ron. Coldly, she summed up the situation: ¡°If you were adults, you¡¯d already be in Azkaban by now. Perhaps Malfoy would serve a month and you two a fortnight, but regardless, your lives would be ruined!¡± Ron turned pale, his face etched with despair. ¡°So... are we being expelled?¡± Professor McGonagall hesitated briefly before replying: ¡°...To your disappointment, Mr. Weasley, no. You will remain here for seven years of strict education to ensure you never make such mistakes again.¡± ¡°The Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery does not apply to first-years, at least not yet. While I may propose an amendment to that rule later, for now, you haven¡¯t broken any existing laws. As punishment, you¡¯ll both serve a month of detention. Any further infractions, however, will result in suspension.¡± Both Harry and Ron let out sighs of relief. Harry couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be expelled¡ªreturning in disgrace to the Dursleys, attending Stonewall High? Having experienced this magical world only to lose it would feel worse than death. But McGonagall wasn¡¯t finished. ¡°And one more thing¡ª¡± After a few moments, her piercing gaze landed on Harry. ¡°Mr. Potter, I want you to tell me truthfully and in detail: where did you learn that spell?¡± ¡°A dangerous spell?¡± Harry exclaimed in confusion. ¡°I learned it from a book! But the book clearly said it wasn¡¯t harmful. The snake wasn¡¯t venomous... I thought it was just a small spell.¡± ¡°Which book?¡± ¡°From Bloodlines to Curses.¡± ¡°It was a gift from Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burkes, supposedly a textbook from the Black family. Professor Victor Vandeboom gave it to me when we visited Knockturn Alley.¡± Professor McGonagall¡¯s expression shifted slightly, and she responded dryly: ¡°I see. The book will be confiscated. I¡¯ll also have a word with Professor Vandeboom.¡± Meanwhile, Professor Victor Vandeboom was walking toward the Great Hall with Professor Snape. Fully dressed and exuding an air of authority, Victor¡¯s presence drew the attention of students. They would first gape at the new professor in surprise before quickly looking away, pretending not to notice while sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes. Much of this reaction was due to the new brooch Snape had given him. Yes, Snape had succeeded in his plan. After much deliberation, he couldn¡¯t resist the allure of Victor¡¯s Nightshade badge. He went to older Slytherin students to procure a brooch, added some of his own rare items, and managed to convince Victor to trade. Victor¡¯s new brooch featured a roaring serpent, intricately detailed with even its fangs clearly visible. The mithril craftsmanship gave it an ancient, almost eerie charm. This led everyone to mistakenly assume that Victor was aligned with Slytherin House, making them too afraid to even glance in his direction. No one wanted to risk losing points for their house on a Slytherin professor¡¯s whim! Thus, Victor and Snape parted the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea as they entered the Great Hall. The Great Hall was already full of students, illuminated by hundreds of enchanted candles. The ceiling mimicked a starry night sky. Students, dressed in robes adorned with their house crests, crowded around four long tables. The hall¡¯s vintage d¨¦cor gave it an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Even Victor found it surreal. In his experience, gatherings like these often attracted fearful mobs who despised magic, turning such events into deadly contests of spellcasting and criminal trials, complete with bounties issued by the kingdom. Once most students were seated, Professor Dumbledore stood up, smiling warmly as he began to speak. ¡°Welcome, welcome, everyone. After a summer apart, we are finally reunited once more.¡± ¡°This year, I hope you will fill your minds with new knowledge to replace what the summer may have emptied, and enjoy another wonderful time learning with your professors.¡± The hall grew quiet as students listened attentively. But minutes later, the grand doors creaked open, interrupting his speech. Two small heads peeked nervously through the crack, their wide-eyed faces turning pale as they realized the entire hall was staring at them. ¡°Come on, gentlemen. Hiding behind the door won¡¯t make it any less awkward,¡± came Professor McGonagall¡¯s voice as she pushed the doors open. ¡°As you can see,¡± Dumbledore continued with a chuckle, ¡°we have some new friends joining us. Though they seem a bit... hesitant, I assure you this term will be as delightful as ever.¡± ¡°Well then, I won¡¯t keep you waiting any longer. Our old friend, the Sorting Hat, must be eager to begin.¡± ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 21: Im sweating "You might think I¡¯m not attractive enough; but never judge a hat by its appearance..." A slit opened on the pointed tip of the Sorting Hat, and a song poured out from it. Once the singing ended, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a list in hand. She maintained her stern demeanor and announced: "When I call your name, step forward, sit on the stool, put on the hat, and await your Sorting." "Hannah Abbott!" A small girl hurried out from the left side of the hall, placed the hat on her head, and, after half a minute, the Sorting Hat shouted: "Hufflepuff!" Cheers and applause erupted from the table at the front right, evidently the most populated of the four. Hannah took off the hat and happily ran over to join them. "Susan Bones¡ª" And so, the repetitive Sorting process began. One by one, the Sorting Hat called names and sorted students into houses. After watching a few students get sorted, Victor finally began to feel bored. He shifted his attention back to the staff table. Unlike the four large tables for students, the staff table was covered with an elegant red velvet cloth, seating about twenty people in a row. Most seats were occupied, except Professor McGonagall''s. Many professors seemed to be losing interest as well; Victor could hear three or four of them whispering and noticed a couple of unfamiliar faces curiously glancing in his direction. "Who¡¯s that?" "Never seen him before. Why don¡¯t you ask?" "You¡¯re closer; you go ask." "I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea¡­" Unfortunately, with Snape seated next to him, not a single one of them dared approach for a chat. Eventually, the professor to his left, after being nudged a couple of times, timidly leaned toward him. The professor, wrapped in a large turban and exuding a faint garlic smell, looked rather young. Stammering slightly, he spoke in a low voice, "H-hello, I¡¯m the D-defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrell." "Victor Vanderboom, Divination professor." Victor extended his hand for a handshake. Quirrell¡¯s hand was icy cold, but Victor¡¯s wasn¡¯t much better, and in the end, it was Quirrell who shivered again during the exchange. After shaking hands, Quirrell managed a smile¡ªthough it came off as a bit twitchy. "So... so you¡¯re a Slytherin student? I don¡¯t r-remember seeing you around before." "No, I¡¯m from the Far East. I never attended a wizarding school; I learned magic under a different wizard." "Then¡ªthen your parents are¡ª?" "Oh, you¡¯re asking if they were wizards?" Victor caught on quickly. "No. Just ordinary Muggles, though I never met them." "Shortly before I was born, a rare meteor shower struck our town. A meteorite fell right onto our house. I was the only one lucky enough to survive¡ªstill in my mother¡¯s womb." "...?" "A meteor?" Quirrell asked, startled.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "Yes, a meteor," Victor replied nonchalantly. "Back in my homeland, there¡¯s even a rumor that meteors are omens of demons." Quirrell was momentarily speechless. The fantastical nature of the story was overwhelming, leaving Quirrell¡ªwho had only intended to ask if Victor was a pure-blood wizard¡ªopening and closing his mouth several times, unsure of what to say. Finally, Quirrell composed himself and, in a voice so low it was barely audible, said softly: "A meteor isn¡¯t¡ªnecessarily a bad thing. Your birth was¡ªa miracle." "At least you didn¡¯t have to deal with those kinds of people much," Quirrell added, seemingly aligning himself with Victor¡¯s words. After all, Victor wore the Slytherin crest, and everyone knew what Slytherin valued. But to Quirrell¡¯s surprise, Victor looked at him with an expression of astonishment. "Those kinds of people? Muggles? You don¡¯t like them?" "...Not many wizards do," Quirrell replied, lowering his voice further. "Why would you say that? Aren¡¯t you a half-blood too?" "...?!" Quirrell froze. "What did you just say?" "I said, you¡¯re a half-blood too," Victor replied, tapping his own temple with a finger. "You¡¯ve shackled your soul with chains you placed upon yourself, rejecting half of your bloodline. If the bloated parasite on your soul were removed, it might free your spirituality and break those chains..." "Would you like to try?" "I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re t-talking about," Quirrell stammered. "But your aura clearly has a double shadow..." Quirrell¡¯s expression froze on his face. As Victor continued, Quirrell¡¯s face grew paler and paler. For a brief moment, a flash of malice crossed his expression, but it quickly faded back into normalcy. At that moment, a voice abruptly interrupted their conversation. "Victor!" Victor looked over to find Dumbledore smiling warmly at him. "Victor, could you step outside and notify the house-elves that they can serve some butterbeer to the staff table? I suddenly thought it¡¯d be a nice treat for the start of term, especially since you¡¯re new here." "Just snap your fingers outside the door, and the house-elves will appear. You can also order yourself a few desserts if you like." Dumbledore winked. "Sure." Victor didn¡¯t decline and nodded at Quirrell, ending their conversation. Victor didn¡¯t seem particularly concerned about the earlier discussion. Though he could sense something unusual about Quirrell, it wasn¡¯t enough to pique his interest. His instincts told him Quirrell posed no threat. Victor had initially hoped to strike a deal with Quirrell, but seeing Quirrell uninterested, he let the matter go. Carrying out Dumbledore¡¯s request, Victor left. After he left, Dumbledore turned back to the staff table, acting as though he had heard nothing, giving Quirrell no attention whatsoever. Still at his seat, Quirrell exhaled shakily, his face pale as a sheet. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead beneath his turban. His forehead was drenched in cold sweat. "Thank goodness..." he muttered silently, his lips forming a grimace that resembled a smile and a sob. "He didn¡¯t notice... ha... he didn¡¯t notice..." A few minutes later, when Victor returned, the Sorting Ceremony was drawing to a close. After a student named Salian Box had been sorted, Professor McGonagall called out, "Harry Potter!" The hall erupted into whispers and murmurs. Harry, looking nervous, stepped forward, placed the hat on his head, and seemed lost in thought. As Victor resumed his seat at the staff table, he glanced at the tense and tight-lipped Harry and commented offhandedly: "What a pity." "Pity about what?" Snape asked irritably. "That boy is wishing not to be in Slytherin. His desire is so strong it¡¯s practically palpable. Too bad he won¡¯t get to be your student¡ªhe¡¯d likely excel in Potions." Snape replied coldly, "You¡¯re mistaken." "Mr. Potter is clearly an air-headed fool. Him not coming to Slytherin is the best news I¡¯ve heard." Snape nearly ground his teeth when saying "Potter." Just then, the Sorting Hat shouted "Gryffindor!" and the table at the back right erupted in thunderous cheers. Fred Weasley stood on his chair, waving his arms and yelling, "We¡¯ve got Potter!" Snape wore a look of unmistakable disgust, irritably checking his empty teacup before slamming it back down. Seeing Snape¡¯s expression, Victor tilted his head but said nothing further. The final few students were quickly sorted, and once everyone was seated, Dumbledore clapped his hands, addressing the students with a warm smile: "Welcome! "Welcome to the start of another year at Hogwarts! I know you¡¯re all hungry, but before we feast, I have three announcements to make." "First, for anyone who does not wish to meet with accidents, pain, or an untimely death, please avoid the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor." Laughter rippled through the student body. "Yes, yes... do remember, ladies and gentlemen." "Second, there have been two staff changes this year. Professor Quirinus Quirrell¡¯s Muggle Studies class will now be taught by Professor Burbage, as he has taken over Defense Against the Dark Arts." "And our other new professor¡ªVictor Vanderboom¡ªwill take over Divination from Professor Trelawney." A sparse smattering of applause greeted the announcements, suggesting neither Quirrell nor Victor were particularly popular. Still, Fred and George Weasley managed to create an uproarious ovation for Victor, earning them countless stares. Victor, speechless, turned his gaze away. "And lastly, before the feast begins, let me just say this: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak! Thank you!" And with that, the new school year officially began. ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 22: First Night at Hogwarts
The banquet concluded amidst Professor Quirrell''s profuse sweating and restless demeanor. However, aside from him, most people seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, with Harry devouring his food voraciously. Harry hadn¡¯t exactly starved at the Dursleys'', but he¡¯d never truly been full either, as Dudley always claimed everything in sight, including Harry¡¯s share of spaghetti. The last time Harry remembered eating to his heart¡¯s content was in Baba Yaga¡¯s house. This memory suddenly surfaced, and it stayed with him even as Percy led them to the Gryffindor common room¡ªbecause aside from the moving portraits, nothing at Hogwarts yet matched the magic of that chicken-legged house. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t the school enchant the tableware to move on its own? That way, I wouldn¡¯t have to pour my own water,¡± Harry mused aloud as they walked. Percy, walking ahead, responded, ¡°That¡¯s not really necessary, is it? Typically, enchanted items are products of alchemy. For instance, today¡¯s magical photos are created using alchemically enhanced cameras. But enchanting thousands of plates to move on their own would require an enormous amount of effort.¡± ¡°Besides, the school¡¯s tableware has been around for ages. They¡¯re part of Hogwarts¡¯ history, and as long as they¡¯re functional, there¡¯s no need to change them.¡± Harry nodded, only partially understanding. Still, this didn¡¯t stop him from imagining Professor Victor as someone extraordinarily wealthy. After all, the way Borgin had fawned over Victor was akin to someone greeting an open Gringotts vault. Pondering this, Harry passed a corridor and caught a fleeting glimpse of a pale face illuminated by the faint glow of magical candles at the end of the hallway. He immediately realized it was Victor. Unable to resist, Harry glanced back. This time, he saw Victor standing across from a ghost covered in bloodstains, its face expressionless and chained. It was the Bloody Baron of Slytherin. A faint voice drifted from that direction: ¡°...I know your secret...¡± ¡°...I won¡¯t tell... anyone... at the school...¡± ¡°...Do I need to pass a test? Just say... I¡¯ll do anything...¡± The voice was raspy and ethereal, as though it were rising from the depths of the earth. Harry involuntarily shivered but quickly recognized it as the Bloody Baron¡¯s voice. It mentioned a test? Harry¡¯s mind jumped to the first time he had visited Baba Yaga¡¯s house. Back then, someone had mentioned a ¡°test,¡± claiming that passing it would help him seek revenge. This thought inflamed Harry¡¯s curiosity. What if he listened and learned how to pass the test?If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Not for revenge, of course. But perhaps it could teach him some magic¡ªlike divination! ¡°I need to use the restroom!¡± Harry hastily called out to Percy before bolting away. Percy¡¯s voice trailed behind him: ¡°Don¡¯t forget¡ªthe password is ¡®dragon dung!¡¯¡± Harry retraced his steps until he reached the corner where Victor and the Bloody Baron stood. Although Nearly Headless Nick had claimed that the Baron never spoke to anyone, exceptions clearly existed. As Harry pressed himself against the corner, the conversation became clearer. Victor¡¯s voice came first: ¡°...I can¡¯t grant your request. You have nothing left to offer. Fulfilling any wish requires a fair exchange. I¡¯m already depleting my own magic just to glimpse the future. It won¡¯t be long before I fade away.¡± Then came the Baron¡¯s reply: ¡°I¡¯ll give you anything you want, as long as you let me see that moment¡ªeven my soul.¡± ¡°No, Baron,¡± Victor said coldly. ¡°You no longer have a soul. What remains of you is merely the most unforgettable fragment of your memory, eroded by centuries until it¡¯s as worthless as chewed tea leaves.¡± ¡°Then what about time? I saw it¡ªTrelawney exchanged her time with you and gained true prophetic abilities!¡± ¡°You must help me! For that moment, I¡¯m willing to give anything¡ªI have all the time in the world, and it¡¯s yours!¡± Harry¡¯s eyes widened in shock. Time? Was that something you could trade? Professor Trelawney... wasn¡¯t she the previous Divination professor? While Harry processed this revelation, the argument continued unabated. ¡°You have nothing to offer, Baron. Time belongs to the living. You¡¯re dead, a hollow shell devoid of feelings or any bargaining chips.¡± Victor¡¯s refusal was unyielding. The Bloody Baron, however, persisted, asking question after question, only to be rejected each time. Finally, Victor, sounding thoroughly exasperated, said: ¡°Fine, fine! Stop pestering me.¡± ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. Since you have no price to pay, find something¡ªor someone¡ªwho does. Bring me a soul full of emotion, or better yet, a living person. Villains are ideal.¡± ¡°Villains? What do you mean?¡± ¡°Wizards harboring intense negative emotions. Their volatile energy, heightened nerves, and abundant magic make them perfect for a deal. Capture someone for me, or share their secrets, and I¡¯ll divine the means to your release.¡± A long silence followed. Just when Harry thought the Baron had vanished, the ghost¡¯s usual cold voice said: ¡°I understand.¡± Harry peeked around the corner just in time to see the Bloody Baron slip through the wall, leaving Victor alone. Pressing himself back against the wall, Harry puzzled over what he had just overheard. What kind of prophecy deal was Victor talking about? Why did it require secrets and emotions? ¡°Could it really be...¡± ¡°Could it really be what?¡± A voice behind him sent Harry¡¯s heart leaping into his throat. At some point, Victor had appeared directly behind him, towering over him with an imposing gaze. ¡°S-s-sorry, Professor Victor! I heard something about a test, and I couldn¡¯t help being curious. Baba Yaga once mentioned a test, and I wondered if I could pass it¡ªso I...¡± Harry stammered so badly that he could barely string a sentence together. Victor, however, latched onto one key point. ¡°You want to pass Baba Yaga¡¯s test? For what? Revenge against your aunt and uncle?¡± ¡°No, no! I-I just want to learn some magic... The book Borgin gave me, From Bloodlines to Curses, got confiscated by Professor McGonagall because I used a jinx on the train.¡± ¡°I¡¯m worried that when classes start, I won¡¯t be able to learn any new spells...¡± Harry lowered his head, embarrassed. ¡°Sorry, Professor.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not an issue.¡± Victor didn¡¯t seem bothered by Harry¡¯s eavesdropping or by the confiscated book. After a moment of thought, he scrutinized Harry. ¡°It¡¯s not entirely impossible. Your talent is unique. If you come help me with some chores once a week, I¡¯ll teach you a bit of magic. How about that?¡± ¡°Absolutely, Professor! But... what kind of magic? Divination?¡± ¡°Some magic you won¡¯t find anywhere else.¡± ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 23: The first lesson The next morning arrived quickly. Viktor¡¯s first Divination class at Hogwarts took place in the early morning and was aimed at seventh-year students. The seventh years were already used to fake Divination. After all, they¡¯d spent the past three years with Professor Trelawney, easily churning out four or five pages of parchment explaining why they¡¯d be knocked into the Black Lake by a suddenly appearing unicorn on a Thursday. Nymphadora Tonks was among them. ¡°Ugh, I really don¡¯t know what this new professor¡¯s like. I just hope he lets us study during class,¡± Tonks said, distressed. ¡°I¡¯ve only got these two weeks left to prepare for my N.E.W.T.s.¡± ¡°Really? Wait¡ªyou¡¯re heading to Auror training in two weeks?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± At this, Tonks proudly puffed out her chest. She was a girl with fiery red hair, dressed in a robe with the Hufflepuff crest. Not only was she an aspiring Auror, but she was also a Metamorphmagus, capable of changing her appearance at will. Divination, for her, was nothing more than a hobby, unrelated to graduation. Chatting with her companion, Tonks climbed the spiraling steps up to the tower. The Divination classroom was located in the North Tower. Originally, it had no staircase at all; Professor Trelawney, in her desire to maintain the mystique of a Seer, had required students to climb a ladder through a trapdoor. However, when Tonks reached where the trapdoor used to be, she was surprised to see that it had vanished. In its place was a wooden spiral staircase that allowed them to walk straight up. ¡°Wow, this is nice.¡± She quickly discovered that the Divination classroom was nothing like she remembered. The heavy curtains, once tightly drawn over the windows, were now all pulled open, and the various teacups, cabinets, and herbs that cluttered the room had been removed, making the space feel bright and spacious. The only touch of mystique in the room was that each round table had four brass pocket watches, placed in front of the seats. Viktor Vanderboom sat behind a newly moved wooden desk near the fireplace. He was dressed differently again today, wearing a blue hat with silver trim, its brim short enough to reveal his pale face and dark, hollow eyes that stared intently at the students below. Those already seated were silent, unwilling to make a sound. Tonks froze, staring in awe for a moment. ¡°Welcome,¡± Viktor said calmly. ¡°Find any table and sit down. You¡¯re the last two to arrive.¡± Tonks hurriedly dragged her companion to a table that still had empty seats.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. In truth, counting the two of them, there were only seven students in the entire room¡ªa testament to just how unpopular Divination had been under Trelawney. Once they were seated, Viktor spoke: ¡°I¡¯m sure you already know my name is Viktor Vanderboom. You can call me Professor Viktor. I¡¯ll be teaching your Divination class this year.¡± ¡°Professor McGonagall has told me that many of you will begin internships soon and want something useful from this class without it interfering with your preparation.¡± ¡°So today, I¡¯ll teach you a few basic techniques. If you¡¯re not interested, you¡¯re free to study on your own during future classes.¡± Several students visibly relaxed at that, including Tonks. They had worried he might act like Snape and insist they study under his thumb. After a pause, Viktor continued: ¡°However, no matter which option you choose, I have one absolute rule¡ªyou are not allowed to bring any nonsense claiming to be Divination into my class.¡± ¡°Absolutely not allowed.¡± Tonks raised her hand curiously. ¡°What do you mean by things ¡®claiming to be Divination¡¯? Does Professor Trelawney teaching us to predict our deaths count?¡± ¡°That¡¯s an excellent example, Miss Tonks,¡± Viktor replied expressionlessly. ¡°Hufflepuff, one point deducted.¡± ¡°?!¡± Tonks puffed out her cheeks in frustration, her hair turning black. But Viktor pretended not to notice. ¡­ Snape¡¯s dictatorial teaching tricks were turning out to be very effective. ¡°You¡¯ve all been at Hogwarts for years now. There¡¯s no need to pretend you¡¯re unfamiliar with the truth. If you make predictions that fail to come true, they¡¯re rubbish¡ªyes, I¡¯m aware this applies to most of the predictions you¡¯ve made in the past three years.¡± ¡°To ensure you no longer mistake that for Divination, today I¡¯ll let you try the real thing.¡± Having said this, he rose from his seat. Under the skeptical yet intrigued gazes of the seven students, he retrieved seven special leaves from a small box and handed them out. As one Slytherin student accepted a leaf, he couldn¡¯t help but ask, doubtfully: ¡°Are you serious? I heard there haven¡¯t been any real predictions for centuries.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Viktor said, ¡°but I¡¯m not teaching you how to make real prophecies. I¡¯m only teaching you to have hunches about what might happen in the future.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Burns, Professor.¡± ¡°Burns, put the leaf in your mouth.¡± Burns frowned reluctantly but, under Viktor¡¯s oppressive gaze, gritted his teeth and obeyed. He asked, thick-tongued: ¡°What¡¯s thith?¡± ¡°A mandrake leaf. If you want to become an Animagus, you¡¯d need to hold this leaf in your mouth for a month.¡± ¡°I did some research on it two weeks ago and discovered that it can amplify sensitivity to the world around you, making your perception sharper.¡± Hearing this, and knowing Professor McGonagall was herself an Animagus, the seventh years finally understood and placed the leaves in their mouths without further hesitation. Tonks asked again: ¡°And then what?¡± ¡°Then pick up the pocket watch in front of you and line up along the right-hand wall.¡± ¡°When you¡¯re in position, close your eyes, focus entirely on the ticking of the pocket watch, and take three steps forward. On the first step, say ¡®Aip, Pip, Kaik.¡¯¡± ¡°Aip, Pip, Kaik!¡± the students repeated softly, intrigued. ¡°On the second step, say ¡®Silo, Holo, Halo.¡¯¡± ¡°On the third step, say ¡®Zesi, Zesi, Zek!¡¯¡± ¡°Zesi, Zesi, Zek!¡± The students were growing more curious. These didn¡¯t sound like ordinary spells at all. Although the two Slytherin students exchanged skeptical looks, Viktor¡¯s intimidating presence stopped them from voicing their doubts. ¡­ Not that it mattered. They¡¯d spent three years with Trelawney. They knew exactly how useless Divination was. One more experiment wouldn¡¯t hurt. So, after repeating the words aloud, they eagerly rushed to the right-hand wall and quickly lined up. The pale-faced, lanky Burns stood at the front, followed by a Ravenclaw student, with Tonks in third place. Once they were in position, Viktor walked slowly alongside them. ¡°Good. Remember the words you just spoke and their pronunciation because you¡¯re about to need them.¡± He gestured with his wand toward the row of floorboards in front of them. The Divination classroom floor was made of wide wooden planks, lined up one after another toward the far wall. ¡°I¡¯ve enchanted these planks so that one of them will randomly become an illusion. You¡¯ll need to walk forward blindfolded, step by step¡ªexactly three steps per plank.¡± ¡°If your pronunciation is correct, you¡¯ll hear the ticking of the watch speed up in front of the illusion plank. That means you¡¯ve successfully made a rough prediction.¡± ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 24: Prophecy of Success In a spacious and bright classroom, sunlight streamed through the windows into the attic-like space, casting a golden sheen on the floor. Yet, even under the golden light, the floor in front of Bones remained perfectly flat and ordinary, showing no signs of illusions. Six students lined up, their heads poking out eagerly to watch the floor. For the past three years, they had never done anything like this in Trelawney''s class. Aside from using Jupiter to predict crashing their brooms or falling into the lake next week¡ªboth predictions that alarmingly often came true¡ªthey had rarely engaged in proper divination exercises. "You may begin," Viktor said. Bones took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and recited the first incantation with a mix of anticipation and doubt: "Ep, Pip, Kak." He took a step forward, the heel of his front boot brushing against the toe of his back one. "Silo, Holo, Halo." That was the second step. "Ze-si, Ze-si, Ze-k." On the third step, he paused, standing still with his eyes shut, listening intently for any change in the rhythm of the pocket watch''s ticking. Confirming no irregularities, he stepped forward again. Suddenly, the wooden plank beneath his feet turned to mist, revealing an empty void below. Bones scrambled to grab hold of the surrounding floor but, unsurprisingly, failed on the smooth surface. With a cacophony of rattles and clatters, he plunged downward in a panic. "Ahhhhh!" Thud! His scream abruptly ended as Viktor''s spell caught him mid-fall. "You mispronounced the incantation," Viktor said flatly. "The first phrase requires emphasis on the vowels, and the final phrase must be pitched higher than the first two." With a flick of his wand, Viktor restored the vanished wooden plank, concealing the view of the floor below. The students watching Bones'' unceremonious drop swallowed nervously. Surely, a wizard wouldn''t die doing this... ...But no one wanted to experience freefall firsthand! "Next." A freckled Ravenclaw boy hesitantly stepped forward, swallowing hard. He seemed sharp, though his trembling betrayed his nerves. Closing his eyes, he carefully recalled the incantation before stepping forward. "Ep, Pip, Kak." "Silo, Holo, Halo." His enunciation was crisp, and his steps confident at first. By the time he reached the fifth plank, beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his lips moved as if muttering calculations under his breath. Perhaps he had gained some confidence, but¡ª Bang! If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it."Ahhhhh!" Thud! "You''re overthinking it," Viktor remarked dispassionately. "I told you to focus on the pocket watch, not the odds of stepping onto a void." Ravenclaws, always overanalyzing things. "Next." Now it was Tonks'' turn. The students behind her were still eager, but the two consecutive failures had planted seeds of doubt. Could this spell even be performed correctly? Tonks took a deep breath, her hair shifting from black to vibrant orange. She carefully stepped onto the starting point, clasped her hands around the pocket watch, and attempted to clear her mind. After a flurry of bizarrely intricate gestures resembling prayers, she finally closed her eyes and murmured the incantation. "Ep, Pip, Kak..." She advanced cautiously. One plank. Two planks. "Ep, Pip, Kak." "Silo, Holo, Halo." "Ze-si, Ze-si, Ze-k!" After finishing the third phrase, she raised her polished boot to take the next step. But then she froze mid-motion as if realizing something. Slowly, she withdrew her foot and held the pocket watch close to her ear. The other students leaned forward curiously, straining to catch any sound. Tic-tic, tic-tic, tic-tic-tic-tic, tic-tac... The ticking had quickened! A wave of murmurs rippled through the students. While it might not prove divination beyond doubt, it was undeniable that the watch¡¯s behavior had changed¡ªsomething the previous two students hadn¡¯t managed to achieve! Tonks opened her eyes, visibly excited. She shifted her weight onto the current plank and cautiously stretched her other foot forward. The plank ahead dissolved into mist! "I did it?" "Professor, I did it!" Tonks exclaimed, spinning around to face Viktor. Viktor didn¡¯t dampen her enthusiasm. He nodded faintly and replied, "Yes, Miss Tonks has provided a proper demonstration. As long as your pronunciation is clear, your intonation correct, and your thoughts focused, achieving the effect is not difficult." "Fantastic!" Tonks skipped away from the planks, thrilled. With her successful example, the remaining students felt emboldened. Of the next four, two succeeded in accelerating their watch¡¯s ticking and correctly predicting the illusory planks. The first two students, now less anxious, attempted the exercise again. Bones succeeded on his second try, while the Ravenclaw boy, still distracted by his fear of falling, failed yet again. Time slipped away as the students took turns practicing. Eventually, as class neared its end, everyone gathered back inside the classroom. "Alright," Viktor drawled, now lounging at his desk. He only perked up when someone fell, idly flicking his wand to rescue them. "I assume everyone who wanted to try has had their chance?" The students nodded. "I know many of you still have doubts¡ªwhether this divination effect is real or just an illusion, or if I tampered with the watch to deceive you." The students perked up, some glancing at Tonks, who seemed ready to defend Viktor. But Viktor raised a hand to calm her and continued, "Let me assure you¡ªthose doubts are unfounded." Tonks'' eyes sparkled. "This form of divination taps into your innate ability to sense danger. Though you may not consciously realize it, this ability is real and works in response to any threat." "If you¡¯re skeptical, I encourage you to test it yourselves. Use your own pocket watches to divine something after class. However," Viktor added, "keep the scope narrow¡ªbroad predictions are difficult with such rudimentary divination techniques." "For instance, go to the Forbidden Forest, pick a path, and divine which one is more dangerous. The results should be¡ª" He paused, imagining McGonagall storming in after students inevitably tested this theory. "Ahem. But entering the Forbidden Forest is strictly against school rules, so do not try this." Despite the warning, the students'' excitement was palpable. Tonks, who had succeeded on her first try, looked especially eager to test predictions on other matters. This was real divination! A form of prophecy immune to skepticism! Then, the Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. "Speak, and give your name," Viktor instructed. "Ian Jones, Professor," the boy said. "Can anyone learn this form of divination? Can we teach it to others?" "Good question," Viktor said, his tone as indifferent as ever. "I don¡¯t mind you sharing this technique. But not everyone can master it. First, it requires the use of mandrake leaves. Second, only those with sharp spiritual sensitivity and undimmed auras can predict danger." "In other words, you need a gift for divination. Fortunately, everyone in this room happens to possess that talent¡ªevidence of Professor Trelawney¡¯s instincts in selecting students." Viktor glanced at the clock, ignoring the rising hands of eager students, and lazily declared: "Time''s up. Class dismissed." ------ you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 25: Lettuce
Although the students had many more questions to ask, Viktor brusquely ushered them all out as soon as his working hours ended. The students lingered outside the door, chattering excitedly, their eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. After all, they were seventh years and had a decent understanding of the magical world. They knew that mastering divination was nothing short of a miracle. Everyone was eager to try it out. Tonks, in particular, raised her arm and shouted on the spot, "I''m skipping my next class! I''m trying it now!" By lunchtime, the news had spread throughout the school. Even Harry had heard about it. At the time, he was carrying two books and walking out of Professor McGonagall''s Transfiguration classroom. During that day''s lesson, Professor McGonagall had turned the lectern into a pig! It had captivated all of Harry''s attention and piqued his curiosity. However, he was a bit frustrated because, despite his efforts throughout the class, he couldn¡¯t even make a single matchstick transform¡ªwithout incantations, Transfiguration felt like pure sensory perception. It was then he overheard some students in the corridor discussing divination. "Have you heard? That new professor can really do divination!" "I''ve heard a lot of people say so, but I can''t believe it. Prophecies aren''t something just anyone can do, right?" "Wrong, it¡¯s not prophecy¡ªit¡¯s divination. They say it¡¯s similar to tea-leaf reading or fire divination, but he has a technique that ensures accurate readings¡­" "Really? Then I want to sign up too!" Two senior Gryffindor students passed by Harry, whispering excitedly. Harry listened with a twinge of envy. Professor Viktor''s class sounded incredibly popular and useful! In fact, Harry would rather attend Viktor''s class than those of other unfamiliar professors. Viktor was the only one who didn¡¯t harbor the expectation of teaching the "Chosen One" when speaking with him. But a sudden noise interrupted his thoughts: "CAW¡ª!" An owl suddenly flew in through an open window, letting out a piercing screech. Its hoarse cry sounded like ten crows cawing together, carrying an eerie and chilling aura. The shrill sound made the nearby students cover their ears and quickly step aside to make way. The owl flapped its wings, circled in the air, and landed squarely on Harry¡¯s shoulder under everyone¡¯s gaze. "For me?" Harry asked, slightly surprised. The owl nodded, almost human-like. The next moment, it extended a yellow claw, revealing a small note tied to it. Harry untied the note and read it. The note said: Harry, I need your help preparing some teaching materials for the afternoon. If you''re free, please come to my office at noon. My office is behind the fireplace at the top of the North Tower; knock three times on the fireplace.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Signed, Viktor. This was the first time Harry had seen Viktor''s handwriting. It was evident the note had been written with a quill, with long, slender flourishes at the edges. Yet the handwriting itself was elegant, akin to the script used in formal contracts in London. Harry immediately felt elated. Ron, who had been walking beside him the entire time, glanced curiously at the note when the owl landed. "Viktor? Is that the professor who gave you From Bloodlines to Curses?" he asked. "It wasn''t him; Borgin gave it to me." "Maybe," Ron said nonchalantly, "but I know Borgin. Borgin has always been a Slytherin ally, like Professor Snape. Most Slytherins are dodgy¡ªnine out of ten dark wizards come from there." "Professor Viktor isn¡¯t like that," Harry retorted. Ron cast him a surprised look, as if Harry had lost his mind¡ªViktor certainly looked the part of a dark wizard! But before Ron could argue, Harry had already darted off down the corridor. He waved from a distance. "I''m skipping the Great Hall. See you this afternoon!" By 12:30, Harry found Viktor''s office. He knocked lightly on the fireplace three times. To his astonishment, the wall behind the fireplace slowly rotated, revealing a small room. The room was utterly different from the bright divination classroom. If necromancers in stories had laboratories, Harry imagined they¡¯d look much like this. In front of him was a small, windowless room illuminated only by a single hanging lantern burning with pale flames, casting a grayish hue over everything. Viktor sat directly beneath the lantern. But what caught Harry¡¯s eye was the massive oil painting that covered half the wall where a window might have been. The painting was predominantly dark in tone. The centerpiece was a mist-covered lake, rendered with a peculiar faded quality that evoked a sense of melancholy. In the center of the lake stood a tall, ancient black stone tower with no doors, only a single window at the top. From the window dangled long, dull golden threads that fell straight to the ground. It took Harry a moment to realize that the golden threads were a person¡¯s hair. He felt a chill run down his spine. Viktor¡¯s pale face was hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He lifted his head slightly as Harry walked in. "You¡¯ve come, Harry." Harry tore his gaze away and nodded. "Congratulations, Professor! I heard your first class was a huge success. I overheard students talking about it just now in the corridor." "That¡¯s nothing," Viktor said dismissively. "Just setting the record straight about divination in the magical world. It turns out they¡¯ve been teaching nothing but charlatanism." "Charlatanism?" "Yes. If divination can¡¯t foresee the future, how is it any different from Muggle psychology? Oh, wait, I misspoke¡ªMuggle counseling at least helps relieve emotions¡­" They chatted casually for a while. Harry was initially interested, but his attention kept drifting to the room¡¯s peculiar furnishings. While they talked, Harry noticed a teapot he had seen in the castle before creeping out of a cabinet near Viktor¡¯s hand. Its spout bent into two short legs as it tiptoed across papers on the desk, pouring tea into a cup. Viktor didn¡¯t even glance at the teapot, clearly accustomed to it. But after pouring the tea, the teapot seemed to fear the painting on the wall. It scurried back under the table with a swift "whoosh." Unable to resist, Harry looked at the painting again. The long, dull golden hair remained the only vibrant color in the gloomy image. Noticing Harry¡¯s gaze, Viktor followed his line of sight and shifted the topic. "¡­Oh, that¡¯s Rapunzel. Are you interested in her?" "Rapunzel?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Yes, Rapunzel¡ªthe daughter of a friend of mine. She had extraordinarily long hair and later married a prince, earning the title of Princess Rapunzel," Viktor said. "That¡¯s her in the painting." Harry¡¯s face reflected his growing confusion. Rapunzel? What kind of name was that? Who would name someone after a vegetable? After a brief silence, Viktor asked, "Would you like to hear Rapunzel¡¯s story? It¡¯s actually related to what you¡¯ll be helping with." "Of course, Professor," Harry said eagerly. And so Viktor began. The story unfolded about a village woman who, while pregnant, craved her neighbor¡¯s rapunzel and stole it nightly with her husband. The neighbor, a witch, caught them and demanded their unborn child in exchange for forgiveness. The witch named the child Rapunzel, whose hair grew unnaturally long due to the magical rapunzel her mother had eaten. She locked Rapunzel in a tower, climbing up whenever she needed by calling, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" A prince, smitten by Rapunzel¡¯s beauty, copied the witch¡¯s call and became her lover. But the witch discovered them, blinded the prince with thorns, and cast Rapunzel into the wilderness. Eventually, the two reunited, and Rapunzel¡¯s tears healed his blindness. "They lived happily ever after," Viktor concluded, his hollow eyes revealing no emotion. "What do you think?" "Happily ever after?" Harry shivered. "That doesn¡¯t sound happy at all¡­ Did your friend ever mention what happened to the witch?" "My friend was the witch," Viktor said quietly. ----- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 26: The Magic Behind Accident In a dimly lit room, pale light emanated from wall-mounted lanterns, casting long shadows over everything. "¡­Your friend was that witch?" Harry asked in shock. "But blinding someone is against wizarding law, isn¡¯t it?" "Yes." "But by then, her mental state was already deteriorating," Viktor said slowly. "In fact, ever since the witch brought the lettuce into her care, her personality became increasingly extreme, harboring an unnatural hostility toward the outside world, completely different from how she was when I first met her." "But after she banished the lettuce for a while, she finally realized her instability and came to me, trying to resolve it." "That¡¯s when I discovered the lettuce she had cultivated was toxic and had already caused irreversible damage to her magical abilities." Viktor seemed to recall the witch¡¯s incredulous, despairing expression and her anguished wail¡ªa sound filled with anguish when she learned she would never wield magic again. After a pause, he continued, "The witch initially sought to develop magical lettuce to achieve eternal youth. However, she overlooked the fact that the lettuce variety she chose was poisonous. While it granted her an alluring magical charm, it also left her perpetually irritable and insatiable, ultimately corroding both her body and mind until she succumbed to the toxicity." "Actually, the reason the prince fell in love with the lettuce princess in the first place was that her mother had consumed lettuce for every meal during pregnancy. As a result, she herself became like a giant head of lettuce. Everyone around her was profoundly affected by this magical influence." A chill ran down Harry¡¯s spine as he suddenly recalled a term he¡¯d read in A History of Magic: "So, this was a magical accident?" "Precisely." Viktor nodded. "The villager¡¯s craving for the witch¡¯s lettuce was a manifestation of her lack of resistance to magic. Pregnancy further weakened her defenses. The witch wanted to raise a child imbued with the lettuce¡¯s magical properties to amplify its effects, but she ended up being undone by her own creation." "What happened to the witch?" "She died." "She sacrificed everything, only to be met with the answer ¡®irreversible,¡¯" Viktor said casually. Harry finally understood the story, feeling a lingering unease. He resolved that whatever magic he studied in the future, the first priority would always be to check for potential dangers thoroughly. Viktor left the topic there. What he didn¡¯t tell Harry was that when the witch first showed him her cultivated lettuce, he had immediately recognized its toxicity. Yet, he chose not to inform her. Instead, he watched as her obsession with youth grew, ultimately consuming her completely¡ªUnauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. After all, who else would trade their life for a prophecy as trivial as "don¡¯t touch the lettuce"? It was through this incident that Viktor conceived the idea of coming to Hogwarts. Searching for clients one by one was too inefficient. If the entire wizarding world knew about his prophecy abilities, and if young witches and wizards were taught early that "prophecies can solve many problems," clients would soon come knocking at his door, eager to pay anything. Then, he could choose with whom to make deals, while sitting at home and enjoying a steady stream of visitors. Viktor thought about it and felt his plan had great potential. Back in the present, Viktor retrieved a leather bag from under the table after finishing his explanation about the lettuce. The bag appeared heavy, seemingly filled with many items. Under Harry¡¯s curious gaze, Viktor emptied it onto the table, revealing several green vegetables with white stalks, oval leaves, and wavy edges. Harry immediately recognized them: Lettuce. Magical lettuce! "These are the remnants of her magical lettuce," Viktor explained. "I¡¯ve studied them for some time and discovered they have a slight effect on divination. When peeled and chopped, they can be mixed with spices to produce a spirit-enhancing smoke¡­" Before he could finish, he noticed Harry backing away in alarm. Viktor added, "Don¡¯t worry; its toxicity won¡¯t affect you." Harry reluctantly accepted the lettuce, then asked curiously, "Why not?" "Your willpower is stronger than most people¡¯s, so you won¡¯t be influenced by the lettuce¡¯s magic. You¡¯ll only feel mildly thirsty near it. This aptitude isn¡¯t related to age¡ªit might be because¡­ well, your soul is a bit bloated." "Alright, enough chatter. Please help me chop these into small pieces," Viktor said, handing Harry a small knife and then opening the door to the fireplace with a casual wave. He gently nudged Harry outside. "You can use the table out there." "Oh, alright," Harry replied, still processing Viktor¡¯s comment about his "bloated soul." Unable to make sense of it, he carried the lettuce to the worktable outside. But as he turned back toward the office, he caught a glimpse of Viktor. Inside, the professor had retrieved the leather bag and was now pulling out a black cloak, seemingly preparing to nap. His desk was spotlessly clean, devoid of any work documents. ¡ªWait a minute, was the professor planning to slack off while Harry did all the work? Harry: "¡­" He stared blankly at the closed fireplace, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind: Could Professor Viktor really just be lazy? After a moment of hesitation, Harry dismissed the thought. The professor¡¯s sinister demeanor didn¡¯t align with such a mundane theory. He quickly chastised himself for his suspicion. With a mix of curiosity and determination, Harry arranged the magical lettuce on the divination classroom¡¯s table. Once laid out, their massive size became apparent¡ªeach head of lettuce was as long as Harry¡¯s torso. Raising the knife, Harry sliced through the center of the largest lettuce. The ancient-looking white blade he wielded was strange but extremely sharp. With a single motion, the lettuce split cleanly in half, revealing its translucent green flesh and a small trickle of juice. As the lettuce was cut open, a faint, thirst-inducing fragrance filled the air. Thirst. Harry shivered and immediately stepped back, covering his nose with one hand while awkwardly stretching out his arm to continue chopping. Slice¡­ slice¡­ The soft sound of lettuce being chopped echoed through the classroom. During the task, Harry encountered nothing particularly unusual. Though the thirst intensified slightly after cutting three heads of lettuce, it was no worse than the sensation of eating an overly salted dish. It was hard to imagine these vegetables once drove a witch to madness. But if just one head of lettuce made him thirsty, how overwhelming must it have been to stand next to the human incarnation of lettuce? He shuddered at the thought. Viktor¡¯s next class was scheduled for around 3 PM. In the meantime, Harry delivered the chopped lettuce, earning himself a handful of enchanted candies as a reward. The candies, made specially by house-elves, were not only delicious but also capable of crawling across the table like tiny spiders. As Harry left, he asked, "Professor, are you planning to use these lettuces to enhance students¡¯ spiritual sensitivity?" "Yes, though that¡¯s only part of the purpose," Viktor said nonchalantly, carefully placing the lettuce into a small dish as though handling a treasure. "The other is to scare off at least half the students." ----- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 27: Divination Test Victor¡¯s second class of the day began at 3 PM. As the hour approached, the Divination classroom steadily filled with students, nearly tripling its usual attendance. Among the crowd were the Gryffindor twins, Fred and George, accompanied by their close friend, Lee Jordan. The trio entered the classroom with arms draped casually over one another''s shoulders, their camaraderie evident. Compared to the morning session, the Divination classroom had undergone noticeable changes. Though still tidy and spacious, the curtains on either side of the attic windows were once again drawn. White candles now illuminated the room, placed evenly on each table. At the front, the previously lit fireplace had been replaced by a brazier on a stand, its flames flickering vividly. Fred and his friends gravitated toward a round table near the brazier. As soon as they sat, their hushed but animated conversation began. ¡°I heard the seventh-year class this morning was incredible,¡± Fred murmured. ¡°A seventh-year Hufflepuff told me they learned how to use a pocket watch to divine which path was safer.¡± ¡°Imagine what we could do with that,¡± Lee whispered back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ¡°No more running into Filch during nighttime adventures!¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± George grinned. ¡°I¡¯m definitely paying attention today¡ª¡± Their chatter quickly strayed into territory that would no doubt make Professor McGonagall¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. But just as George began sharing another scheme, he caught sight of the brazier and paused, his brows furrowing in confusion. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like we¡¯re using pocket watches,¡± he said, tilting his head toward the flames. ¡°Are we learning fire divination instead?¡± ¡°Close enough, Mr. Weasley.¡± The eerie, low voice came from directly behind them, making the trio jolt in surprise. They spun around to see Victor emerging from the shadows, moving with an almost spectral grace. No one had noticed his arrival. Victor didn¡¯t linger by their table but strode directly to the podium, his expression impassive. The class was about to begin. Victor¡¯s dark, hollow eyes scanned the young witches and wizards before him. When he finally spoke, his voice carried an air of solemnity. ¡°Welcome to Divination, everyone. Before we begin, I have some unfortunate news to share.¡± The room quieted instantly, every student¡¯s attention locked on him. Victor continued, ¡°While many of you may find Divination intriguing, by the end of today¡¯s class, some of you will leave this room never to return¡ªnot due to any misfortune but because Divination is not a path for everyone. The ability to perceive the future requires an innate spiritual sensitivity.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°The process involves releasing your spiritual energy, connecting with the world around you, and interpreting the unseen responses. However, much like being born a wizard, the amount of spiritual energy one possesses is innate.¡± ¡°Let me be clear: having less spiritual energy does not make you less of a wizard. It simply means your strengths may lie elsewhere, in areas where your talents can truly shine.¡± ¡°To help identify those best suited to this discipline, I¡¯ve prepared a preliminary test.¡± A ripple of unease spread through the room. Tests were rarely welcomed, and this one seemed especially daunting. After all, how could they prove they had the ¡°spiritual sensitivity¡± required without prior experience? George raised his hand abruptly, cutting through the tension. ¡°Yes, Mr. Weasley?¡± Victor said, acknowledging him with a slight nod. ¡°Professor, if we don¡¯t know anything about Divination yet, how can we pass this test?¡± Victor gave a faint smile. ¡°A fair question. That¡¯s why I¡¯d like everyone to take out your Unfogging the Future textbooks. If you don¡¯t have yours, share with a neighbor.¡± A rustle of activity followed as students pulled the hefty books from their bags. Victor waited until the commotion subsided. ¡°Turn to page 15,¡± he instructed. More pages turned in unison. Fred quickly found the section: Various Symbols in Tea Leaf Reading. ¡°As you¡¯ll notice, this page lists images and their symbolic meanings¡ªfor instance, a sun represents one thing, and an eagle another.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t need to interpret these symbols today. Instead, you¡¯ll observe the smoke patterns from the brazier and match them to the imagery described here.¡± Victor lifted a stack of parchment from the table near the fireplace and began distributing it. As the papers made their way around the room, low whispers of curiosity and apprehension filled the air. George scanned the parchment as soon as it reached him. The questions were unexpected:
Question 1: In the smoke predicting this year¡¯s campus safety, which of the following patterns did you see? A. Sun B. Ram and horns C. Raven D. Crooked cross Question 2: In the smoke predicting this year¡¯s magical world safety, which of the following patterns did you see?
The format continued until the final question:
Question 10: In the last segment of smoke, describe the scene you perceived, including its emotions and colors.
George gawked at the page. Even Percy¡¯s old Divination exams hadn¡¯t been this bizarre. ¡°At the end of class, I¡¯ll reveal the answers,¡± Victor announced, his tone calm. ¡°Those who correctly identify at least six symbols are encouraged to continue Divination. For others, I recommend exploring Arithmancy.¡± With that, Victor moved to the brazier, holding a wooden bowl of lettuce and a dish of spices. He sprinkled rosemary and forget-me-not petals into the flames, followed by a handful of lettuce leaves. ¡°The spices enhance sensory perception, while the lettuce strengthens spiritual connection,¡± Victor explained. As the ingredients burned, the flames surged dramatically, turning a deep purple. Pale smoke with glowing violet flecks rose, forming dense, shimmering clouds that hovered midair. The class gasped in awe. Victor¡¯s voice broke through their amazement. ¡°Focus on the smoke. Observe carefully and record what you see.¡± Then, turning to George, whose hand was once again raised, Victor arched an eyebrow. ¡°Yes, Mr. Weasley?¡± George hesitated but pressed on. ¡°Professor, if we guess six answers correctly, can we still stay in Divination?¡± Victor¡¯s lips curved into a rare smile. ¡°Why not? Guessing correctly suggests fate¡¯s guidance¡ªa gift invaluable in this field.¡± ¡°Well then,¡± Victor said, glancing over the class. ¡°Any further questions?¡± The students shook their heads, and Victor gestured toward the brazier. ¡°Begin.¡± ----- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 28: Gap A few minutes later, half the students had put down their quills, lost in confusion and bewilderment. Some of the Muggle-born students stared at the swirling gray-white mist, and, in their daze, it was as if they had returned to their elementary school classrooms. Their literature teacher stood excitedly at the podium, shouting, "What does this sentence symbolize? What does it symbolize?!" Their answer had never changed: "We don¡¯t know!!" In their eyes, the gray mist lacked any discernible shape. It was so amorphous that even the edges and corners were impossible to make out. One student couldn¡¯t help voicing their frustration: ¡°What crow and sun are you talking about? All I see is¡­ a troll¡¯s vomit.¡± ¡°Gryffindor, minus two points.¡± Victor said expressionlessly. The student immediately shrank back, silenced, and lost any desire to continue complaining. But what frustrated them even more was that while they had no talent for this, some others seemed particularly gifted. Take Fred and George, for example. The two of them, instead of struggling, were naturals at this. Almost as soon as the mist emerged, they tilted their heads, gestured a little, and then, with a flurry of quill strokes, filled out their answers. Lee Jordan couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°Wait, mate, I saw you picked C for the first question. How did you even see a crow shape in that mist?¡± ¡°It¡¯s obvious,¡± George replied matter-of-factly, pointing to the constantly shifting edges and center of the mist. ¡°See? The mist¡¯s corners have shifting angles, resembling crow feathers. Plus, on the side closest to the flame, there are purple flashes¡ªthose could totally be a crow¡¯s eyes. Look at it this way, isn¡¯t the shape unmistakable?¡± Lee Jordan pressed his fingers to his eyes, even pulling his eyelids open as he stared at the mist for a long time. Finally, he came to a conclusion: ¡°Fred, are you sure you¡¯re not hallucinating from smoke inhalation? That¡¯s clearly a circle.¡± ¡°¡­My name¡¯s George. And you¡¯re the one hallucinating from the smoke.¡± Similar scenes unfolded throughout the classroom. Some students could point out shapes in the mist, while others, no matter how hard they tried to see what was described, couldn¡¯t make out anything remotely similar. In fact, this was exactly the effect Victor wanted. Because for many untalented young witches and wizards, no matter how hard they tried to learn, divination would never yield results¡ªseeing the future required innate talent. If you couldn¡¯t see it, you couldn¡¯t see it.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Discouraging them now saved the students time, and also saved Victor some effort. Returning to the present, Victor, noticing that most of the students who could write had finished their answers, calmly clapped his hands and repeated: ¡°All right, next question.¡± The class let out a mixture of groans and sighs, clearly dividing the students into two groups. This distinction made a small subset feel even worse. Victor ignored them. Instead, he produced some bright green lettuce, tossing it into the flames, letting the students watch it burn to ash. He spoke to the fire: "Let the flames shine, let the light of the past return, unveil the secrets of time, and reveal the truth once more." But just as everyone focused intently on the emerging mist, a young Hufflepuff wizard suddenly raised his hand high. His face was youthful but already showed traces of handsomeness, with black hair, dark eyes, and a steady demeanor. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Cedric Diggory, Professor,¡± Cedric replied politely. ¡°I think there¡¯s a problem with the options for question five. Could we confirm it again?¡± As he spoke, the students around him glanced back at the question. The previous one, question five, had asked: ¡°In predicting the most threatening event to you this term, what shape did you see?¡± The options were: black dog, dove, sheep, or skull. Cedric explained earnestly: ¡°I vaguely saw the shape of fabric in the mist. No matter how many times I looked, it always had folds and creases, as if wrapping around something¡­ I really saw it. But it¡¯s not listed among the options.¡± Victor raised his eyebrows slightly, carefully studying Cedric again. ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry, Professor. Did I say something wrong?¡± ¡°No, quite the opposite, Mr. Diggory,¡± Victor said. ¡°You may write down what you saw under the question and add it as an option.¡± Cedric breathed a sigh of relief, barely daring to believe how easily he had been let off the hook. Given how Victor behaved, much like Snape, he had fully expected to be docked ten house points for questioning the curriculum. But Cedric kept his thoughts to himself. After sitting back down, he heard Victor add: ¡°Oh, and Cedric, if you ever consider joining a club in the future, you might want to try divination. You have potential to go far in this field.¡± ¡­ When the class ended, only half the students maintained their previous mood. The other half walked silently, heads down, as if the excitement only belonged to Cedric and his peers. Even when they entered the next Transfiguration class, they carried this mood with them. This was the first lesson of the term for the third years. Professor McGonagall, following the usual syllabus, began by introducing Animagus transformations and instructed the students to attempt turning into animals again, focusing on the finer details of transformation. The Gryffindor group of four¡ªAngelina, Lee Jordan, Fred, and George¡ªwere assigned to the same practice group. While turning a button into a beetle, Fred said, ¡°I heard that Animagus transformation leaves are also useful for divination. A Hufflepuff told me about it¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, should we sneak into Professor Sprout¡¯s greenhouse tonight and nab a couple? I heard she only grew a few mandrakes this year.¡± ¡°Maybe we could use them to master seventh-year techniques.¡± But their musings were met with silence. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, mate?¡± George asked again. After being asked twice, Angelina couldn¡¯t help but look up from poking her button. She was a pretty, dark-skinned girl, a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, bright and cheerful, but her eyes were slightly red now. ¡°I think you should stop bringing that up, Fred,¡± Angelina said hoarsely. ¡°You two managed to answer all the questions, but the rest of us couldn¡¯t figure out a single one.¡± ---- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 29: Conflict ¡°Angelina is right, Fred. I couldn¡¯t figure out a single question. Those mists just look like a white blur to me¡ªnothing else.¡± In Transfiguration class, Lee Jordan tossed his wand onto the table in frustration. ¡°We¡¯re definitely going to fail the test, but you guys did great, and it¡¯s unfair to keep bringing it up.¡± ¡°¡­Sorry, Lee, Angelina.¡± Fred and George immediately became flustered and apologized. George tried to comfort them: ¡°We just guessed randomly; maybe we just got lucky. Last year, we were pretty confident about our potion-making skills too, but we ended up mixing the Scab-Curing Solution with the Improved Dungbomb Formula. Snape nearly had a heart attack that day.¡± ¡°Besides, what the professors say isn¡¯t always right. Snape¡¯s always muttering about how everyone but the Slytherins are idiots¡­¡± ¡°Although, let¡¯s be honest, we all know Flint¡¯s the biggest idiot of them all,¡± he concluded. Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch team captain, was an old rival of theirs. They were trying to shift Lee and Angelina¡¯s attention away from their test woes, but soon realized something was amiss. Both Lee and Angelina¡¯s expressions, which had improved slightly, suddenly turned to shock as they stared at something behind the twins. Fred chuckled nervously before freezing entirely. Slowly, he turned his head to see Professor McGonagall standing sternly behind them. ¡°It¡¯s Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley. I hope you learn to exercise basic manners; otherwise, I¡¯ll be forced to give you a detention to help you remember this lesson.¡± ¡°Sorry, Professor.¡± Fred and George immediately bowed their heads, looking contrite. ¡°Alright then.¡± Professor McGonagall returned to the podium and clapped her hands to get everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Alright, everyone. I think I¡¯ve figured out what¡¯s going on today. No wonder you all seem so listless¡ªyou¡¯re upset because of your poor performance on the Divination test. I understand.¡± ¡°But I must tell you, even I don¡¯t have the gift of Divination. I believe Professor Vector would say the same: what¡¯s important isn¡¯t talent, but effort. As long as you truly apply yourselves and make use of your strengths, it doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re skilled in Divination or not. After all, you can always choose Arithmancy or Astronomy instead.¡± Professor McGonagall hesitated, but ultimately couldn¡¯t resist adding: ¡°¡­Though I dislike speaking ill of a colleague, even Professor Trelawney¡¯s prophecies often fail to come true. Every year, she predicts that a student will die by the end of term, and yet, to this day, everyone is alive and well.¡± Her example instantly lightened the mood, lifting the students out of their gloom. If even McGonagall didn¡¯t take Divination seriously, then perhaps having no talent for it wasn¡¯t such a big deal. Most of the students, at least temporarily, let go of their dejection and began pondering something else instead:Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. If even Professor Trelawney¡¯s predictions could be wrong, could the things Cedric and the Weasley twins foresaw in their Divination class possibly be true? Meanwhile, after the students had all left, Victor returned to his office. The room was as dim and eerie as ever. In the cramped space, only a single lantern on the wall cast a ghostly light. In the pale glow, Victor closed the fireplace door, sat back at his desk, and resumed his work. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. But on closer inspection, small details were off. The kettle on the desk had been moved, its handle barely visible under the lower shelf. Most noticeably, a long strand of pale blonde hair, once prominent in the gloomy painting on the wall, had vanished without a trace¡­ Yet, if one looked carefully, they might notice a face¡ªpale and shadow-like¡ªemerging from the darkened entrance of the tower depicted in the painting. The figure in the painting moved. She turned around. Her face grew closer and closer to the foreground until it nearly touched the canvas¡­ ¡°Have they all left?¡± A melodious, crystalline voice rang out in the room. Though no one else was visibly present, Victor seemed accustomed to this occurrence and casually took a seat. ¡°Yes, all the students are gone.¡± ¡°Then, have you finished your task? Did you plant the seeds of evil in those children?¡± ¡°I prefer to call it ¡®suggestion,¡¯ Miss Rapunzel. I didn¡¯t stir up too much conflict¡ªjust ensured some students would fail their exams. As long as they remain at Hogwarts, they¡¯ll only face more and more failures.¡± ¡°Normal people wouldn¡¯t break under that,¡± the voice replied. ¡°Ordinary failures, perhaps not. But as you continue to teach them more in Divination, fleeting regrets could evolve into lasting envy, gradually twisting their hearts.¡± ¡°Just like the divide between Muggles and wizards.¡± The girl named Rapunzel finally appeared fully within the painting. She propped herself up on the stone windowsill of the tower, her face emerging into view. Her features bore a striking, almost unsettling beauty¡ªrosy cheeks against pale skin, with eyes so large they seemed unnatural. Yet her gaunt frame added a haunting quality to her appearance. It was her voice that had spoken earlier. Rapunzel¡ªher nickname, derived from her original name¡ªpreferred this moniker because it made her feel more human, less like the plant she was named after. Indeed, the Rapunzel depicted in this magical painting could move. When Harry had first seen Victor¡¯s office, his time spent in the Muggle world had made him forget a basic fact of the wizarding world: wizarding portraits were alive. Victor¡¯s paintings, though created outside the wizarding world, functioned similarly. Rapunzel¡¯s portrait, in particular, carried an eerie allure replicated through unique techniques. To avoid trouble, however, she usually pretended to be motionless. ¡°When Muggles and wizards coexist, Muggles long to become wizards, while wizards desperately try to distance themselves from Muggles¡­¡± Rapunzel leaned on the windowsill, gazing at Victor. Her voice was soft yet tinged with a dangerous charm. ¡°Are you planning to make them pay a double price? Just like my mother and me?¡± Her bony face made her expressions seem slightly unnatural, but her tone lacked malice¡ªonly a subtle magic that could unsettle the sensitive. Victor remained calm. ¡°Your scenario is too idealistic. The differences between Muggles and wizards stem from many factors. What I do merely allows one or two students to trade something trivial.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a small experiment to save me some effort.¡± ¡°As for your mother and your situation¡­ that¡¯s not my concern. You both came to me voluntarily, seeking to use prophecy to escape each other.¡± Victor shrugged. Why not profit from both sides? Rapunzel glanced at him, sighing softly. ¡°True. But I gave up all my magic and received nothing but the news of her death in return. That wasn¡¯t what I wanted. I just wanted her to stop chasing me and live her own life.¡± Her response was one Harry would have found shocking. ¡­In Rapunzel¡¯s story, Victor turned out to be the true ¡°puppet master.¡± He had taken payments from both the witch and Rapunzel but had only performed one act: ensuring the witch¡¯s death. He hadn¡¯t even fulfilled Rapunzel¡¯s request directly, merely taking her magic. Yet Victor appeared unfazed by her accusations. ¡°She received what fate had in store for her, Miss Rapunzel. Besides, freeing yourself from a cursed magic is a blessing. At least when your mother painted you, you were still whole. Isn¡¯t that enough?¡± ¡°Now, are you so idle? How¡¯s the task I gave you¡ªto enter the other paintings¡ªprogressing?¡± ---- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 30: To Hogsmeade The next few days passed uneventfully. Classes during this time offered little novelty. Even with just one spell to learn, students needed weeks to fully master it, which included absorbing the accompanying theory. Meanwhile, although Divination had quickly become a hot topic at Hogwarts, it caused little additional commotion. This was largely due to the contrasting teaching methods of Professors Trelawney and Snape, which left much to be desired. Life at the school carried on as usual. On Friday morning, as Victor sat at the staff table having breakfast, an overwhelming flock of owls swooped in through the open windows, shedding feathers everywhere. Experienced professors like Flitwick and Sprout had already enchanted their plates to protect their potatoes and eggs. Victor didn¡¯t cast any spells, yet not a single owl flew directly over him. It was as if every owl instinctively avoided his direction. In the end, only his ghostly owl swooped gracefully through the clear space, landing before him on the table. ¡°Caw¡ª¡± Its raspy cry announced its arrival as it stretched out a leg wrapped with a copy of The Daily Prophet. Victor casually handed it a crumb of bread and retrieved the paper. The headline read: ¡°Gringotts Heist Still Unsolved: Ministry Suspects Perpetrator Has Fled the Country.¡± Intrigued, Victor read on. ¡°On July 31st, an unidentified dark wizard illegally infiltrated one of Gringotts¡¯ underground vaults and managed to evade capture.¡± ¡°So far, joint investigations by the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts have yielded no progress, nor has there been any sign of further crimes in the wizarding world. A Ministry spokesperson stated yesterday afternoon that the wizard might have fled abroad.¡± ¡°A Gringotts goblin representative publicly declared that the targeted vault had been emptied earlier that day, leaving no items stolen. Nonetheless, the break-in has cast doubt on Gringotts'' vaunted security. Is it as foolproof as claimed? And why has the Ministry failed to apprehend the culprit? This incident may reveal long-standing incompetence within magical institutions...¡± Victor didn¡¯t bother reading further criticisms of the Ministry. Still, he found the case rather intriguing. Gringotts was the wizarding world¡¯s sole bank. Its longevity stemmed from its robust security measures¡ªso reliable that even during Voldemort¡¯s era, no thefts had occurred, despite the Dark Lord himself abstaining from raiding it. This alone suggested that Gringotts¡¯ defenses were formidable enough to deter ordinary wizards.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Which raised the question: How powerful must this wizard be to bypass those defenses, access a vault, and escape the combined pursuit of the Ministry and Gringotts? If the intruder were so extraordinarily skilled, why had they remained obscure in the sparsely populated wizarding world? It was also highly curious that the only vault they targeted had been emptied just hours earlier. There was undoubtedly more to this than met the eye. But with so few clues available, the speculation ranged widely¡ªfrom internal thefts by pureblood families to drive down Gringotts¡¯ prices to the Ministry''s claim of foreign dark wizards committing crimes on the run. This case was worth keeping an eye on. Victor turned the page and temporarily set the matter aside. Near the end of the paper, he found a small report about Divination and Professor Trelawney''s recent situation. Apparently, Trelawney¡¯s condition had stabilized, and she was now residing on the fourth floor of St. Mungo''s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in the Potions and Plant Poisoning Ward. However, the article made no mention of Victor¡¯s prophecy, only stating: ¡°...Rumors suggest that Hogwarts has hired a new professor to fill the post. It is unclear how this new instructor¡¯s teaching will differ from Professor Trelawney¡¯s, but in the worst-case scenario, students would receive the same standard of education as before.¡± No wonder Trelawney had been so eager to gain genuine Divination abilities¡ªany student who had attended her classes knew what her skills were like. After skimming through the major news, Victor closed the paper, poured an excessive amount of sugar cubes into his tea, and took a sip. Sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a lively golden glow over everyone in the hall. Since it was Friday, the dining atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful. Students chatted animatedly, their faces brimming with happiness. At that moment, Professor McGonagall appeared at the side door, her expression unusually gentle. She was dressed in an emerald green robe and wore a dark green hat adorned with golden patterns. She walked over to Victor. ¡°Good morning,¡± she greeted. ¡°Good morning, Professor McGonagall,¡± Victor replied, setting down his teacup. ¡°Is there something you need from me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± McGonagall said kindly. ¡°I thought you might not have visited Hogsmeade yet since arriving in England.¡± ¡°The third-year students are going on a trip to Hogsmeade Village today. Professors are required to accompany them, and many of us will be there. Would you like to join us?¡± ¡°With the first week of term over, the available professors usually gather at the Three Broomsticks for a chat. I must say, Madam Rosmerta¡¯s drinks are excellent¡ªwell worth trying.¡± ¡°Sure, no problem,¡± Victor agreed readily. This must be what Muggles call... ...team-building? In any case, he welcomed the chance to chat with other professors. During the week, everyone¡¯s schedules were packed. He hadn¡¯t even met some colleagues, like Professor Sprout, let alone spoken much with Professor Snape. ¡°Great, see you in half an hour at the main entrance.¡± When Victor arrived at the entrance, the area was bustling with third-year students. They chattered excitedly, leaving behind their worries and exam results as they fully embraced the day¡¯s joy. Amid the lively atmosphere, Victor stepped out wearing a narrow-brimmed pointed hat and a long robe with a short cape, making him look less intimidating. Outside, a row of carriages awaited. The carriages, seemingly from the medieval era, were decorated with vintage patterns. The doors were two feet above the ground, and small windows offered glimpses of the red-cushioned interiors. Most strikingly, the front of each carriage was empty¡ªno coachman, no horses, just a void. To the students, there was nothing but air ahead of them. ¡°Ah, Professor Victor,¡± Professor Sprout called out as she organized the students. ¡°Feel free to choose any carriage and help maintain order nearby. Professor McGonagall and I will ride at the front, while Professor Flitwick will take the last carriage to ensure everyone¡¯s safety.¡± ¡°Thank you, Professor Sprout.¡± Victor nodded politely before selecting a vacant carriage near the back. As he passed the front of the carriage, he suddenly tilted his head slightly to the right, as if avoiding something invisible. With the motion completed, he stepped into the carriage. Sprout¡¯s gaze lingered for a moment. Her expression, usually warm and affable, now bore a hint of surprise. ...Could the new professor see them too? ---- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 31: Conversation in the Carriage After Victor boarded the carriage, students continued to file into the various carriages, preparing to embark on their trip to Hogsmeade. Despite the number of students avoiding the same carriage as the professors, someone approached Victor''s carriage¡ªQuirrell. Today, Quirrell wore a purple turban, and his gait and expression still carried a nervous edge. But under the bright sunlight, others were surprised to notice that he had a rather delicate face and a tall, slender figure. Were it not for the pervasive smell of garlic around him, he might have been a popular professor. In fact, he had been. A few years ago, Quirrell was known for his quick wit and amiable demeanor. Thus, many upperclassmen were astonished at the change in him now¡ªthey couldn¡¯t fathom how someone could transform so drastically in just a year. ¡°You don¡¯t mind if I join you, Professor Victor?¡± Quirrell stammered. As he approached, a strong wave of garlic scent hit Victor, making him frown slightly. ¡°Sorry, I had a run-in with a vampire in Romania, you see. Once they¡¯re onto you, it¡¯s hard to shake them off. I¡¯ve had to use garlic water liberally to keep them at bay,¡± Quirrell explained, stepping into the carriage. His boots hit the wooden floorboards with a solid thud. Victor didn¡¯t object, merely watching Quirrell quietly as the latter sat across from him, shivering slightly before muttering, ¡°You must understand, right? I didn¡¯t expect you could see death as well.¡± ¡°See death?¡± ¡°Oh, those Thestrals up front. Only those who¡¯ve truly understood death can see them.¡± ¡°When they approached you earlier, you leaned aside slightly, so I assumed you could see them. They do have a bit of an ominous look about them.¡± Hearing this, Victor glanced forward. Pulling the carriage were two emaciated horse-like creatures. Their skeletal bodies were draped in a thin layer of black skin, through which their ribs and leg bones were clearly visible. At their midsection, the outlines of their intestines could be discerned with every breath, a sight both macabre and chilling. Though their bodies resembled starved horses, their backs bore bat-like wings, and their heads resembled dragon skulls adorned with tiny horns, with blue flames burning in their hollow eyes. These were Thestrals. As Victor looked at them, the creatures began to move forward. All the students had boarded the carriages, and the Thestrals spread their wings, galloping toward the end of the road. Outside the window, the school grounds and the dense Forbidden Forest began to recede rapidly.Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Whoosh¡ªwhoosh¡ª¡± The wind roared past the sides of the carriage. No wonder the students acted as if they didn¡¯t see them; only those who had witnessed death could perceive Thestrals. Speaking of death, countless faces flashed through Victor¡¯s mind. Quirrell¡¯s voice interrupted his thoughts. Stammering, he asked, ¡°I thought there wasn¡¯t much death in the Far East. When¡ªwhen did you first start seeing them?¡± ¡°Death is everywhere,¡± Victor replied coolly. ¡°We don¡¯t have Thestrals where I come from, but the death rate is quite high. As for the first time... it was probably when I saw Little Red Riding Hood¡¯s grandmother.¡± ¡°Little Red Riding Hood?¡± ¡°A child. Her red hood had magical properties that warded off giant wolves in the forest. But when she left, the wolf ate her grandmother, and the two became one. The hood¡¯s effect vanished.¡± ¡°Later, she traded the hood with me, asking me to deal with the wolf for her.¡± ¡°The wolf¡¯s head still hangs over the doorway of my second-floor study.¡± ¡­What kind of story was this? Quirrell was momentarily speechless, feeling like he had absorbed a lot of information that ultimately made no sense. Little Red Riding Hood, wolves¡ªnone of these seemed connected to the British wizarding world. How could such a diviner call his soul ¡°bloated¡±? Victor suddenly turned the question around: ¡°And you?¡± ¡°Me?¡± Quirrell shuddered, as though the question terrified him. ¡°Perhaps it was when I dealt with zombies.¡± ¡°That time, I was invited by a prince friend of mine in Africa to help him handle some zombies. They were preserved by cursed gold. When I used certain techniques to strip the gold from them, they turned to dust.¡± ¡°It was frightening¡ªthey had once been Muggle pharaohs...¡± Quirrell abruptly fell silent, his face twitching as if recalling memories he didn¡¯t want to revisit. ¡°What¡¯s a pharaoh?¡± Victor asked with interest. ¡°A leader in Muggle history. But it doesn¡¯t matter¡ªit¡¯s not significant. I don¡¯t want to talk about it anymore...¡± ¡°Not significant? Is that why you stopped teaching Muggle Studies?¡± ¡°Yes, yes. Defense Against the Dark Arts is much more useful. I prefer it.¡± ¡°Sometimes, being honest with yourself is better, Professor Quirrell,¡± Victor remarked suddenly. ¡°Your spirit suggests you¡¯re lying. If you keep this up, even your natal star will begin to dim. Perhaps the matter I mentioned before¡ªif you still want to return to a normal life¡ªmy offer stands. But the price¡­ you¡¯ll have to work a bit harder to afford it.¡± Victor and Quirrell locked eyes. In that instant, Quirrell was not only speechless but felt as if his heartbeat stopped for a second. He dared not ask further, fearing Victor might shatter his fragile truth. At that moment, the carriage began to slow. Outside, a wizarding village with a style distinct from Diagon Alley came into view. They had arrived at Hogsmeade. When the carriage stopped, Quirrell muttered under his breath, ¡°¡­I don¡¯t need it.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± Victor raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He simply opened the door and left decisively. Almost the moment Victor disappeared from sight, Quirrell¡¯s face turned ashen. ¡°Master¡ªMaster¡ªbelieve me, I absolutely had no intention of defying your orders!¡± Suddenly, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the carriage floor, trembling so hard his lips quivered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s thinking¡ªhow could he possibly¡ª¡± ¡°Silence!¡± As Quirrell trembled, a sharp voice suddenly echoed in the otherwise empty carriage. It seemed to come from beneath his thick purple turban. The voice made Quirrell¡¯s face turn even paler. Oh, he knew exactly who it was. It was Voldemort. His master, the man he had encountered in the Albanian forest. When speaking with Voldemort, Quirrell¡¯s stammer vanished. His facial twitches ceased, and his expression, while still pale, was one of sheer terror. The sharp voice paused for a moment before resuming, weaker this time: ¡°...Approach him. Make a deal with him... I know that cursed diviner thinks you have value; otherwise, he wouldn¡¯t have offered to ¡®help¡¯ so proactively...¡± ¡°Disguise yourself, find him, and ask if he can stabilize your soul¡ªfor a similar price¡­¡± ---- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 32: Hogsmeade and Shrieking Shack On the other side, Victor quickly put Quirrell out of his mind¡ªmainly because Quirrell had nothing valuable enough to offer. At this point, Victor wasn¡¯t inclined to negotiate and certainly wasn¡¯t willing to waste his time persuading someone like Quirrell. After a quick cost-benefit analysis, Victor decisively abandoned him. Stepping off the carriage, Victor arrived at Hogsmeade Village. Professor McGonagall was still waiting at the station for the remaining students to arrive. It would be a while before she would take everyone to the Three Broomsticks for drinks. To kill some time, Victor decided to wander around Hogsmeade with the chattering students surrounding him. Hogsmeade''s atmosphere was vastly different from Diagon Alley¡¯s. Being close to Hogwarts, this wizarding village was filled with shops specifically designed to attract students: Honeydukes was brimming with an assortment of candies and juices, Zonko''s Joke Shop sold all kinds of prank items, and along the street were the Owl Post and a boutique offering fashionable cloaks. At the moment, every store was packed with excited students gleefully spending their Galleons. As Victor walked along, he could hear the students'' animated conversations: ¡°Honeydukes, Zonko''s Joke Shop, and the Three Broomsticks¡­ I want to visit all of them!¡± ¡°But I heard the stuff sold at Zonko¡¯s is pretty useless¡ªjust flashy and novel.¡± ¡°Useless? Have you forgotten about Fred and George? I just saw them head in there. Want to bet how many new dung bombs they¡¯ll be throwing into the corridors next week?¡± It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine the effect of a dung bomb, given its name. As the students walked further away, their chatter fading into the distance, Victor fell silent. He began pondering whether he should perform a divination next week before leaving the castle¡ªto avoid accidentally encountering a dung bomb. Hogsmeade wasn¡¯t just a shopping destination for students and professors; it was also a supply hub for troublemakers! If he had his way, Fred and George Weasley¡¯s school robes would have mandatory embroidery on the back: ¡°This student is prohibited from purchasing dung bombs!¡± Victor immediately decided to locate Fred and George, at least to stop them from buying dung bombs and turning the school into a cesspit¡ªsomething that wasn¡¯t entirely unprecedented. He¡¯d heard Professor McGonagall mention such an incident before. However, Victor didn¡¯t find the Weasley twins near Zonko''s Joke Shop. Walking further along the street, he instead spotted an unusual building. It was a small house on the edge of Hogsmeade, its yard overgrown with weeds, and the windows boarded up with wooden planks. The place looked peculiar and dilapidated.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. But the strangest thing was the furtive figure skulking around the building. As Victor approached, the figure crouched by a drafty gap in the wooden boards, not turning his head but shouting earnestly into the house: ¡°...Have you found it yet? Hurry up, or we¡¯ll miss our trip to Honeydukes!¡± ¡°What are you doing?¡± A deep voice sounded from behind, startling the figure so much he almost jumped. Turning stiffly, he revealed a familiar face¡ªLee Jordan. Lee stammered as he spoke: ¡°P-Professor?!¡± ¡°Whew... It¡¯s just the professor. You scared me!¡± Victor raised an eyebrow. ¡°What are you afraid of?¡± ¡°...Nothing, Professor. It¡¯s just that this is the Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade¡¯s famous haunted house,¡± Lee explained. ¡°They say you can hear a banshee¡¯s screams here at midnight. For a moment, I thought you might really be a ghost.¡± Who wouldn¡¯t be scared? Investigating a haunted house and suddenly hearing, ¡°What are you looking at?¡± from behind felt like something straight out of a horror story! Especially when the speaker was Professor Victor¡ªwith his demeanor, it wouldn¡¯t be surprising if someone wrote an entire horror story about him. But as his panic subsided, Lee suddenly remembered something equally important. Wait, wasn¡¯t he here to keep watch for the Weasleys?! By this time, Victor had already moved to the spot where Lee had been standing. It didn¡¯t take much effort for Victor to find a gap in the wooden boards leading into the Shrieking Shack. Around the gap, the wood was unevenly broken, as if clawed apart by some wild creature. Through the dark interior, Victor could make out two figures crawling around on the floor, searching. It was unmistakably Fred and George. Victor: "..." The twins were so focused they hadn¡¯t even noticed the earlier conversation outside. Without looking back, one of them shouted: ¡°Just wait a bit longer, Lee! We haven¡¯t found the secret passage yet! The Marauder¡¯s Map clearly says it¡¯s here... Ow! Cough, cough, this dust is terrible...¡± Lee Jordan¡¯s face turned desperate. He tried to explain weakly, ¡°Professor, let me explain! They¡¯re actually¡ª¡± But Victor wasn¡¯t interested. He waved a hand dismissively. He took a deliberate step toward the wall. As he stepped, silver light flickered over his black leather boots, forming a web of strange patterns that glowed with magical energy. Before Lee could get a good look at the intricate designs, Victor suddenly vanished into thin air, dissolving into a cascade of silver light! All that remained was a patch of flattened grass, proof someone had been standing there moments ago. ¡°Huh?¡± Lee Jordan was stunned. Inside the Shrieking Shack, Fred and George were still rummaging through the dusty, dilapidated room, making an even bigger mess of the already ruined furniture. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense...¡± Fred muttered as he searched. ¡°The Marauder¡¯s Map clearly shows there¡¯s a passage to Hogwarts here. Why can¡¯t we find it?¡± ¡°Maybe we should ask the map?¡± George suggested. ¡°No way. If we need the map to tell us where the passage entrance is, what¡¯s the point of exploring?¡± They continued their search. The Shrieking Shack was chaotic and filthy, clearly abandoned for at least a decade. The wallpaper on the walls was peeling, crumbling at the slightest touch, and every movement sent dust cascading through the air. Their rummaging naturally stirred up more dust, causing them to cough uncontrollably. As they worked, silver sparks suddenly appeared on the floor in front of them, floating in midair and shimmering brightly for a moment before coalescing into the outline of a person. Victor materialized there. Click. The light sound of his boot hitting the floor broke the silence. The silver patterns on his boots gleamed for an instant before fading back into darkness. Fred and George froze, staring at the suddenly appeared Victor. They glanced at him, then at the untouched gap in the boards. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°How are you here? How did you get in?¡± Victor glanced disdainfully at the dusty surroundings. Pulling out his wand from his pocket, he murmured: ¡°Scourgify.¡± Much of the room¡¯s dust vanished instantly. After finishing the spell, he turned to the stunned Weasley twins, who were still reeling from the large-scale cleaning charm, and countered their questions with one of his own: ¡°What do you think?¡± ---- you can read more advance chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 33: The Witchs The dim interior of the Screaming Shack was pierced by a faint beam of light streaming through a crack in the corner of the wall, illuminating a spot in the room that had already been cleaned. Before it was tidied, that spot bore a smudged trail left by clothing¡ªlikely from when the Weasley twins crawled in through there. Fred Weasley''s eyes darted mischievously, and with a grin, he swiftly changed the subject. "Professor, did your shoes just glint? Was that some sort of magical effect? I¡¯ve never seen anything like it!" "Yeah, yeah!" George chimed in with his trademark cheeky grin. "What kind of rare magical effect is that? Do you think it''ll be on the History of Magic exam?" Victor¡¯s expression remained impassive as he glanced at the two of them, but he didn¡¯t dismiss their attempt at conversation. "It¡¯s modified from a damaged magical artifact¡ªoriginally a pair of silver shoes belonging to a witch." "A witch?" "Silver shoes?" "A long time ago, in a place called the Land of Oz, there was an evil witch of the East. With those shoes, she ruled over everyone there. Legend says the shoes were the source of her power and could take anyone to any place they desired." "But her reign didn¡¯t last. One day, she was crushed to death by a house that fell from the sky, and the shoes were taken by someone else." Victor stopped speaking, letting the silence linger. Fred and George exchanged confused glances before one of them finally asked, "That¡¯s it?" "That¡¯s it." "A witch powerful enough to rule a region gets killed by a falling house? That¡¯s kind of¡­ anticlimactic, isn¡¯t it?" "Life is unpredictable," Victor concluded tersely. Then, with a subtle smirk, he countered, "After all, even your own Dark Lord was defeated by a baby. Is it so strange for an evil witch to be done in by a house?" "...You have a point." "So, do the silver shoes really let you go anywhere?" "More or less. With the original shoes intact, three steps would suffice to take you anywhere in the world¡ªcrossing nations, continents, whatever you wished." "But the witch¡¯s magic wasn¡¯t strong enough to harness their full potential. The shoes were also prone to being lost¡ªif they slipped off while someone was flying, retrieving them was no small ordeal." "Cool! So leaving school would be a piece of cake, then?" Fred¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. "If a pair of shoes that could take you anywhere in the world were placed before you, and all you thought about was escaping school, your future would be bleak indeed, Mr. Weasley," Victor said flatly. "Fair enough¡ªat least go to Gringotts," George muttered. "Don¡¯t bother. After the evil witch¡¯s death, her successor accidentally damaged the shoes and abandoned them in a desert for years. I had to put in considerable effort to recover them. And as a result, their function has been altered," Victor explained. Fred and George looked as though they wanted to press further about what the new effects might be, but Victor had grown tired of the topic. He cut them off and steered the conversation back to the matter at hand.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Of course, Victor had noticed the twins were trying to distract him. During their chatter, they had been exchanging glances and covert gestures behind his back. Not that it mattered. Victor, towering over the two teenagers, shifted his tone. "Enough chit-chat. Now, let¡¯s talk. What are these ¡®Marauder¡¯s Map¡¯ and ¡®passages connecting Hogwarts¡¯ you were just mentioning?" "I¡¯m fairly certain Professor McGonagall wouldn¡¯t approve of students possessing such items. And unauthorized departures from the school have long been strictly forbidden." "We don¡¯t have them!" Fred immediately protested, waving his hands defensively. "We were just looking for the passages. We didn¡¯t plan on leaving the school!" "Exactly, Professor, this is unfair!" George added. Victor didn¡¯t argue. He simply fixed them with his cold, dark eyes. The twins began sweating nervously; the longer he stared, the guiltier they felt. They hadn¡¯t been entirely honest. Ever since acquiring the map, they had snuck out of Hogwarts countless times, even venturing into Hogsmeade¡ªhow else would they have gotten their infamous dungbombs in earlier years? Their mother certainly wouldn¡¯t have bought them. Today, they¡¯d thought they could explore a new passageway in broad daylight. But they¡¯d been caught red-handed by Victor. Fred¡¯s defiant posture wilted, and he realized with dismay that there was no escaping today. Victor simply extended a hand. "Hand it over." Reluctantly, Fred pulled out an old square piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Victor. The corners of the parchment were frayed, and nothing was written on it. Without hesitation, Victor asked, "How does it open?" The twins exchanged a glance, then slumped further in resignation. "Point your wand at it and say, ¡®I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,¡¯" George mumbled. Victor seemed amused by the incantation, raising an eyebrow before tapping the parchment with his wand and reciting, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Instantly, fine lines of ink spread like a spiderweb from the point where his wand touched the parchment, intertwining and expanding to fill its surface. A detailed map began to appear. At the top, elegant green script emerged: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present: The Marauder¡¯s Map. The map illustrated the intricate layout of Hogwarts, with numerous lines extending to their current location, labeled ¡°Hogsmeade.¡± Within Hogwarts, countless dots moved about, each accompanied by a name. For instance, Professor Snape was pacing in his potions lab, while "Albus Dumbledore" was stationary in the Headmaster''s office. As Victor studied the map, another line of script appeared at the top: Mr. Prongs would like to remind you that the activation phrase is ¡°up to no good,¡± not ¡°no good.¡± We suggest this dubious professor maintain the bare minimum of deception, rather than blurting out the truth. Victor: "..." And it wasn¡¯t done yet. Mr. Moony expresses condolences for Hogwarts¡¯ professor selection process. Though the silver shoes story is intriguing, it reveals the eccentricity of this professor. Truly a tragedy, truly regrettable¡ªpureblood arrogance and quirky dark wizards seem to have overtaken Hogwarts. Mr. Padfoot advises the others not to judge solely by appearance. At least allow for exceptions. Failure to do so may result in yet another internal dispute¡ªthe 23rd one¡ªamong the Marauder''s Map¡¯s creators. This map... was unbelievably cheeky. Victor couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow again. Yet instead of irritation, he felt a spark of curiosity. Could the map hear its surroundings? Fred and George, intrigued by Victor¡¯s expression, craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the parchment. Before they could see, Victor rolled it up and tucked it into his cloak. "Where did you find this map?" he asked. "Uh¡­ we kind of stumbled upon it, you know? We like exploring Hogwarts and tend to find cool stuff along the way," Fred said evasively. Victor could tell they were lying, but since the map only displayed Hogwarts, it was likely found there. He chose not to press further. Asking more would probably reveal which professor they had stolen it from. The magic in the map itself, however, was fascinating. Victor had spent some time in the wizarding world but had never encountered such a precise combination of tracking and naming magic. The creators even managed to interact with external stimuli. If he could decipher its workings, it might elevate the magical devices in his own home. At the very least, the enchanted mirror would likely find it "interesting." With that thought, Victor decided to take the Marauder¡¯s Map for further study. "I¡¯m confiscating this. Any tool enabling unauthorized departures is a banned item. And as for the passage to Hogsmeade, I suggest you stop searching for it." Fred and George groaned in unison, their usual playful defiance completely absent. Still, seeing potential in the twins, Victor didn¡¯t leave them completely empty-handed. Instead, he added: "But in exchange, I can grant you a small blessing." ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 34: Blessing In the dimly lit Screaming Shack, Fred and George exchanged puzzled glances. Outside, Lee Jordan continued hopping around, occasionally shouting their names in an attempt to figure out what was happening inside. However, the three inside unanimously ignored him. A few seconds later, Fred and George spoke in unison: "Blessing?" "Yes," Viktor nodded. "It¡¯s something fairies and Patronuses like to cast. I happened to learn it, though the effects are slightly weaker. It''s said only those with a pure heart can wield the most powerful blessings." "The effects of a blessing generally grant extraordinary wisdom or unparalleled courage." The moment Viktor finished speaking, the Weasley twins'' eyes lit up. They immediately dismissed the latter part (Courage? Who needs courage? Gryffindors are born with it!). Their focus was solely on the word "wisdom." Everyone knew the last known object that could bestow wisdom was Ravenclaw¡¯s Diadem, which was said to grant the wearer unparalleled intellect, allowing them to master any magic effortlessly. This legend had driven countless wizards to search for the diadem ever since its disappearance a millennium ago. Although Ravenclaw¡¯s Diadem was irreplaceable, if blessings worked as the professor claimed, he surely wasn¡¯t lying. Especially Viktor¡ªa professor who seemed far too aloof to bother with deception. At that moment, Fred and George could already envision themselves wearing the diadem, surpassing everyone in wisdom, and forever free of academic and prank-related worries. They even began fantasizing: "One day, no one at Hogwarts will match my brilliance. When I cast legendary ancient magic, Professor McGonagall will shed tears of joy..." "Ahem." "What are you two thinking about?" Viktor cleared his throat twice and asked suspiciously, finally pulling Fred and George''s attention back to the grimy little shack. "Nothing, Professor!" Fred and George responded in unison. "Fine," Viktor frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he continued speaking. "But I can only bless one of you. I¡¯m still not entirely adept at the process. If I attempt more than one, the effect will diminish, and it won¡¯t be worth the effort." "...Guess it¡¯s you, Fred." "Me?" Fred was taken aback. "Speaking of which, Professor, how do you always tell us apart so easily? I¡¯ve never asked before, but why is that?" Even Mrs. Weasley couldn¡¯t distinguish them at a glance. Growing up, the twins had played countless rounds of ¡°Who¡¯s Fred?¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. But Viktor, without even sparing them a second glance, would always say with certainty: "It¡¯s simple." "It¡¯s your star of fate, Fred. Yours is dim and fading, whereas George¡¯s is relatively bright. If I don¡¯t bless you, the potential value you could create in the future will disappear along with it. That would be quite a pity." Before Fred could ask any more bewildered questions, Viktor started pacing the room, scanning his surroundings until he stopped at a central corner of the shack. This corner was on the left side of the Screaming Shack, featuring a tattered sofa, an old bed, a broken-legged stool, and a small cushion, suggesting that four people might have once lived there. Above them, the dilapidated wooden roof had a crack, allowing a single beam of sunlight to stream through. "Alright, stand over there." Without needing further instructions, Fred gleefully ran into the patch of sunlight. Viktor gave him a nod. "Ready to start, Professor?" "...¡± Viktor didn¡¯t reply immediately. He simply placed his wand back at his waist and stared directly at Fred for a moment. His eyes shimmered with an odd light, making his left and right eyes appear subtly mismatched. Fred couldn¡¯t quite articulate what seemed off. He only knew that the moment Viktor steadied himself, his gaze turned hollow, as though he was peering through Fred at something far beyond. As their eyes met, Fred felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. But before he could fully grasp the situation, Viktor spoke in a strange, ethereal voice: "Beware¡ªyour enemy rises from below." "He cannot be defeated, nor can he be stopped... His return is fated... None born of parents can harm him... None who scorn death can bring about his downfall..." As Viktor spoke, the air seemed to chill, sending a shiver down Fred¡¯s spine. He instinctively wanted to exchange a glance with George, but the ¡°blessing¡± process was brief. Viktor paused for only two seconds before continuing in a softer tone: "Yet, pay no mind to who rages, who plots, or who conspires against you; "You shall remain undefeated. Spells shall not pierce your body, nor shall shrapnel touch you; "Until the southern woods move to Godric¡¯s Hollow, "To challenge you." "...It¡¯s done." A few seconds later, Viktor abruptly spoke again. The peculiar light in his eyes vanished instantly, as though it had never been there. As Fred regained his senses, he felt no immediate change, only that the sunlight above seemed slightly blinding. He took a few steps forward and asked incredulously, "That¡¯s it? It¡¯s over?" "It¡¯s over," Viktor replied. "What more do you want? This is already quite good." "But I don¡¯t feel any different?" Fred began touching his face and hands, searching for any signs that his skin had turned to wood or iron, but found nothing. Throughout the entire process, Viktor hadn¡¯t chanted any incantations or even used his wand. He had simply waved his hand lazily in the air in front of Fred¡¯s forehead, as if casually reading a palm. Normally, the more powerful the magic, the more precise the incantation or ritual required. Yet Viktor insisted: "That¡¯s how blessings work. If you doubt its effectiveness, feel free to test it on a classmate. However..." "...No, there¡¯s no ¡®however.¡¯" "You can leave now. It¡¯s done. But don¡¯t come back here again, or I¡¯ll make sure you end up in detention." Viktor dismissed them curtly. Facing Fred and George¡¯s confused gazes, he showed no change in expression, merely adjusting his pointed hat to obscure his eyes. As he turned away, Viktor thought to himself: Ah, my first blessing is complete. Indeed, this had been his first time casting a blessing. If not for the novelty, he wouldn¡¯t have impulsively decided to try it on Fred¡ªafter all, blessings were usually given only when requested. True fairies and witches wouldn¡¯t casually use such a precious magic. The number of blessings they could grant in a lifetime was limited, and to squander one recklessly would tarnish their reputation. But Viktor was different. He had no reputation¡ªoh no, he had no willing recipients for his magic. In fact, ever since he learned how to cast blessings, no one had been willing to be his test subject. To this day, the memory still irked him. Clearly, the people back in the kingdom lacked vision. He had even gone out of his way to learn blessings while teaching Maleficent prophecy! Yet when he offered to demonstrate, from his dragon companions to the princes and princesses he met, every single one refused¡ªsome even avoided him outright. Even the Magic Mirror had hidden itself! As for Baba Yaga, her response had been: "Don¡¯t mess with these old bones of mine. Everyone knows only the kindest fairies can cast blessings properly. And you? There¡¯s bound to be something... off with yours." ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 35: Duel after Blessing Although he didn¡¯t possess exceptional wisdom, being invulnerable to blades and spells wasn¡¯t a bad deal either. On the other side, the two Weasleys were thinking along these lines as they crawled one after another, backsides sticking out, through the hole in the wall. Initially, they had hoped Victor would allow them to exit with dignity, but their request was firmly rejected, leaving them no choice but to crawl back the way they came. As George''s backside moved out of sight, the afternoon sunlight spilled onto Fred''s face, illuminating the tiny flowers and grass surrounding the shed. Years of neglect had endowed the place with a disordered yet vibrant charm. Fred picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his robe. Lee Jordan, who had been loitering outside, rushed over immediately. ¡°Are you guys okay? The professor didn¡¯t give you too hard a time, did he?¡± ¡°Nothing serious. Professor Victor isn¡¯t as strict as Professor McGonagall. You see, he...¡± Fred¡¯s voice trailed off as he instinctively glanced back at the Shrieking Shack, curious to see where Victor would emerge. To his surprise, when his gaze swept past the window, the interior was completely empty. The only thing left behind was a stark dividing line between the dust-covered and the spotless areas. Victor had already departed. ¡°When did the professor leave?¡± George asked, astonished. ¡°Just as you guys were crawling out,¡± Lee Jordan replied. ¡°His boots glinted for a second, and then he vanished. I¡¯ve got to say, those are the coolest shoes I¡¯ve ever seen! If they hit Diagon Alley, they¡¯d sell like hotcakes.¡± ¡°By the way, I heard you guys mention something about a ¡®blessing.¡¯ What¡¯s that all about? Your voices got too quiet afterward, so I couldn¡¯t catch it.¡± ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t fully understand it either,¡± George chimed in. ¡°All I know is that it¡¯s supposed to be useful. The professor said Fred would always win duels and wouldn¡¯t be hit by spells anymore!¡± ¡°Really?¡± Lee Jordan¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked at Fred. ¡°Can it really be that effective? Even most protective charms can¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°Who knows,¡± Fred replied nonchalantly, rubbing his hands together with excitement. ¡°The professor said I wouldn¡¯t lose, so I might as well find someone to test it on. I¡¯ve been itching to teach those Slytherins a lesson!¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Lee Jordan added enthusiastically. ¡°Let¡¯s test it out right now!¡± ¡°I saw those two idiots, Derrick and Bole, earlier. They cheated their way to victory in last year¡¯s Quidditch finals. Now¡¯s the perfect time to settle the score.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do it!¡± ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go!¡± The trio grew increasingly animated. Fred, in particular, felt a surge of confidence like never before. His performance in Charms had always been lackluster, and he often lost to the underhanded tactics of the Slytherins. Getting hit by a nasty curse wasn¡¯t uncommon, either. So, naturally, he resorted to flinging Dungbombs instead. Sure, he lost house points, but the results were immediate. Slytherins hadn¡¯t dared approach them recklessly in ages.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. But psychological victories weren¡¯t enough. Now that he had this supposed blessing of invulnerability and needed to test it anyway, targeting a couple of despicable Slytherins seemed like the perfect plan. Under the sunlight, with his resolve renewed, Fred strode confidently toward the sharp-roofed houses of Hogsmeade Village. However, after just one step¡ª ¡°Ouch!¡± Thud! ¡°Fred!¡± As Lee Jordan and George moved forward, Fred stumbled on his very first step, landing face-first on the grassy ground with a loud thud. A few blades of grass even stuck to his head from the impact. Grimacing, Fred got back up. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just tripped over a branch. It must¡¯ve been right underfoot. Knee¡¯s a bit sore, though. Strange¡­ shouldn¡¯t I be immune to injuries now?¡± George glanced at Fred skeptically before muttering, ¡°I suddenly have a bad feeling about this.¡± Derrick and Bole were the Beaters for the Slytherin Quidditch team, occupying positions that directly opposed the Weasley brothers on the field. The root of their enmity lay in last year¡¯s Quidditch Cup, where Derrick and Bole had resorted to underhanded tactics. Before the match, the two had each concealed a pouch of live spiders in their pockets, waiting for the perfect moment to release them above the Weasley twins¡¯ heads. While the Slytherins also ended up covered in spiders, the Weasleys¡¯ formation was disrupted for several minutes, allowing the Slytherin team to score multiple goals and ultimately win the match. Fred and George had been itching to get even ever since, but only now did they have the chance. They finally cornered the two Slytherins behind the Three Broomsticks pub. Derrick and Bole, tall and burly from years of Quidditch, loomed like walls. When they saw Fred approaching, they sneered coldly. ¡°What do you want? Looking for a fight?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got it wrong¡ªwhat we¡¯re after is justice,¡± Fred drawled. ¡°You haven¡¯t forgotten the little stunt you pulled at last year¡¯s Quidditch Cup, have you?¡± Derrick scoffed. ¡°A stunt? It wasn¡¯t a stunt. Madam Hooch didn¡¯t call foul or stop the game, which means our methods were perfectly within the rules! Face it, you lost because you weren¡¯t good enough.¡± ¡°Hah! Since when is dumping spiders considered a legitimate tactic?¡± Fred retorted. Still, he didn¡¯t press the point further. After all, accusing Slytherins of resorting to dirty tricks was more a compliment than an insult. Fred finally said, ¡°So, let¡¯s settle this the fair way: a wizard¡¯s duel. You two against us. Pick your seconds, and we¡¯ll start right now.¡± ¡°Now?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the matter, scared?¡± ¡°Hmph, hardly.¡± Without hesitation, Derrick and Bole conferred briefly before deciding who would go first through a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Wizard duels, once a historical means of settling disputes, had long since lost their legal standing. In the past, they could overturn court rulings, often ending with one party dead. Nowadays, duels were less lethal, especially among students like Fred, who barely knew a handful of spells. Bole stepped forward to face Fred, both exchanging perfunctory bows while George and Derrick stood as witnesses. ¡°Excellent,¡± Fred said with mock grandeur. ¡°According to the rules of dueling, the match only ends when one party is injured or incapacitated and sent to the infirmary.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be you,¡± Bole sneered. The two eyed each other warily. Bole wasn¡¯t much for words, so after trading a few threats, he gripped his wand tightly, ready to attack. Fred shouted, ¡°According to the rules, we first turn our backs.¡± Both turned around. ¡°Next, we¡¯ll take three steps forward. On the count of three, we cast our spells.¡± Bole smirked silently, already plotting to whip around on ¡°two¡± and ambush Fred with a well-aimed curse. But before he could act¡ª ¡°Three!¡± Bole: ¡°?¡± Derrick: ¡°?¡± Lee Jordan and George: ¡°!!¡± Fred blurted ¡°three¡± all at once, spun around without missing a beat, and fired off a curse with a wicked grin. A flash of red light hit Bole squarely. ¡°Rictusempra!¡± Bole instantly doubled over in uncontrollable laughter, clutching his stomach in pain and gasping, ¡°You... scoundrel...!¡± ¡°Thanks for the compliment,¡± Fred said smugly. ¡°And you, Bole¡ªcalling yourself a Slytherin, yet being less devious than me? You¡¯re a disgrace to your house.¡± Gasping for breath, Bole tried to retaliate. Blue light shot from his wand, aiming for Fred¡¯s face. Confident in his blessing, Fred stood his ground, eager to test its limits. To his shock, the curse hit him directly. A moment later, his limbs began jerking wildly, moving like a marionette in an awkward tap dance. Fred: ¡°?¡± ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± Inwardly, he screamed, Professor Victor, you¡¯ve betrayed me! Meanwhile, in the Three Broomsticks, Victor sipped his cocktail, observing the chaos with a distant gaze. ¡°Not my fault,¡± he muttered. ¡°It¡¯s just... close enough. Precision¡¯s overrated anyway.¡± After all, if his blessings were truly perfect, he wouldn¡¯t be giving them out for free. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 36: The Weasley Blessing Standing on the sunlit lawn beside the Three Broomsticks pub, Fred finally understood. Fred got it. In that instant, countless myths and stories he had read before flashed through his mind, including one or two from India. Regardless of their origin, they all emphasized one crucial point¡ªhow blessings were worded mattered greatly. No matter how similar the intent sounded, blessings that deviated from the wording would never take effect. For instance, Fred had once read the story of Hiranyakashipu in his History of Magic textbook. This was a wizarding legend from India. It told of a man with a long name who received extraordinary magical protections: he couldn¡¯t be killed by any person or animal, couldn¡¯t die by day or night, and couldn¡¯t meet his end on the ground or in the air, among other conditions. In the end, however, another wizard transformed into a half-man, half-lion form (neither human nor animal) and killed him at twilight (neither day nor night) using claws while perched on his own thigh (neither ground nor air). Thinking of this, Fred finally understood¡ª The blessings'' wording, though called "blessings," were essentially a game of semantics, designed to define the protective magic¡¯s limits. Professor, are you seriously playing word games with me? Fred stomped and twirled in an impromptu tap dance, roaring internally in frustration. At this moment, he also understood why Victor had referred to it as a "minor" blessing. Still, a blessing was better than no blessing at all. After spinning once more under the sunlight, Fred, under the compulsion of the Tarantella spell, struck a one-legged pose and simultaneously devised a strategy in his mind. ¡°Ha-ha¡­ ha¡­ Fred, you just¡­ wait and lose¡­¡± Opposite him, Bollett gasped for air, gritted his teeth, and forced out a ¡°Disarm you!¡± through clenched teeth. Fred danced his way around the spell and countered with a ¡°Aguamenti,¡± drenching Bollett from head to toe. ¡°You¡¯re the one who should give up,¡± Fred said smugly, leaping and twirling. ¡°You¡¯re laughing too hard to cast properly! And in your current state, you couldn¡¯t hit me if you tried.¡± Even as he spoke, Fred continued his triumphant dance, infuriating Bollett further. Gasping and wheezing, Bollett shouted the first spell that came to mind: ¡°Bombarda Maxima!¡± Golden flashes erupted from Bollett¡¯s wand, sweeping across the lawn. The grass flattened wherever the light struck, their roots snapping dramatically. If those spells hit a person, they¡¯d leave bruises for sure, though probably not penetrate the skin. The barrage finally caught up to Fred. From the sidelines, George covered his eyes, unable to bear watching. He knew Fred hadn¡¯t mastered the Shield Charm yet¡ªafter all, they¡¯d only just started their third year. But no one could have predicted what happened next. Just as Bollett¡¯s wand tip pointed at Fred, the wand shook violently before inexplicably fizzling out.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Bollett: ¡°?¡± Driss: ¡°?¡± Lee Jordan: ¡°?¡± Fred and George: ¡°!!¡± ¡°It worked!¡± Fred leaped in place, shouting excitedly. ¡°Worked? What worked? That was just a fluke!¡± Bollett growled, no longer gasping for breath. ¡°You won¡¯t stay this lucky forever!¡± ¡°Damn it, what¡¯s wrong with this wand¡­¡± Bollett fussed with his wand, tapping it impatiently, but to no avail. When he brought the tip closer to inspect it, the dormant golden light suddenly reignited and shot toward him. ¡°Ahh!!¡± Bollett let out a cry as his own spell hit him, sending him staggering backward. Unluckily, he stepped on a small stone, lost his balance, and fell. ¡°Thud!¡± The slope below sent him rolling a few times before he crashed into a tree with a resounding ¡°thunk.¡± Dazed, he lay sprawled on the ground. Everyone watching was stunned, especially George and Lee Jordan. So¡­ does this mean Fred won? Could a blessing really be this straightforward? It seemed less like a blessing and more like Fred had downed an entire bottle of Felix Felicis¡ªSnape-brewed, no less. Only Fred cheered, jumping up and down, shouting, ¡°I get it! I get it!¡± George finally approached after a moment of disbelief. Lowering his voice, he asked, ¡°What did you figure out? Why didn¡¯t Bombarda Maxima work on you, but the Tarantella did?¡± ¡°Are you daft?¡± Fred hissed, exasperated. ¡°How can you not see it? It¡¯s the ¡®bomb¡¯! The ¡®bomb¡¯!¡° ¡°The bomb what?¡± George looked even more confused. ¡°Don¡¯t you remember? The professor said in the blessing that shrapnel couldn¡¯t hurt me. I don¡¯t know why he included that, but who says only Muggle bombs produce shrapnel?¡± Fred explained confidently. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t the ¡®bomb¡¯ in Bombarda Maxima count as shrapnel? And by extension, why wouldn¡¯t water bullets? Definitions are flexible. If these are all types of ¡®shrapnel,¡¯ then I¡¯m immune!¡± Across from him, George¡¯s jaw dropped. His expression seemed to say: Is this even allowed? Fred puffed out his chest with pride, feeling like a genius. Sure, his interpretation of the blessing was far from conventional, but who said words could only have one meaning? This was creative thinking! Proper application of logic! From now on, any spell involving ¡°bombs¡± or anything shaped like a projectile was useless against him. This had been his plan from the start. He¡¯d deliberately led Bollett into using Bombarda Maxima to confirm his theory. The result proved him right¡ªthe blessing could be used this way. He was far cleverer than Hiranyakashipu in the legend, avoiding anyone exploiting his blessing¡¯s loopholes. Fred thought this triumphantly. But a few seconds later, he noticed everyone around him suddenly widening their eyes in unison. That wasn¡¯t right¡ªhow could they have overheard his whispered explanation? ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you lot?¡± Fred asked. No one replied. The silence was deafening. After a long pause, only Lee Jordan shifted his gaze, glancing between Fred and something to his left. Fred turned¡ªand locked eyes with Professor McGonagall, her lips pressed tight, eyes blazing with fury. She stood like an eagle with outspread wings, making everyone in front of her seem insignificant. Far away, in the Three Broomsticks, Victor raised an eyebrow at the commotion. He drained his glass, observing with interest. If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, McGonagall¡¯s wand was made of spruce¡ªwood commonly found in the Forbidden Forest. Given Hogwarts was Ollivander¡¯s largest supplier, her wand likely originated there. The Forbidden Forest lay to the south of Hogwarts, but McGonagall currently faced west¡ªtoward Godric¡¯s Hollow... Fred, meanwhile, found himself utterly at McGonagall¡¯s mercy, receiving a thorough scolding. Was this... not also a form of the blessing¡¯s effect? Victor jotted in his notebook: ¡°First blessing test result: Positive. Preliminary conclusion: Conditions outlined in the blessing¡¯s wording are effective, but so are negative effects that meet those conditions. ¡°Fred Weasley¡¯s application is worth studying¡ªhis improvisation suggests blessings may be influenced by intent. Further observation recommended.¡± Closing the notebook, Victor mused over Fred¡¯s exceptional ingenuity regarding the blessing. What had begun as a kind-hearted gesture now seemed like a prophetic foresight. Fred¡¯s sharp mind had elevated him to the realm of fairy-tale cunning¡ªand perhaps even beyond. Still, if Fred ever tried to argue that ¡°Bombarda Maxima counts as shrapnel, so Divination fraud counts as Divination,¡± Victor swore he¡¯d throw him off the Astronomy Tower. Moments later, Victor snapped back to the present and addressed the other professors and Hagrid: ¡°What were you saying earlier? That incidents of student misconduct have been rare these past two years? And that Professor McGonagall hasn¡¯t lost her temper in a while?¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 37: New Tidings in the Three Broomsticks Inside the cozy warmth of the Three Broomsticks, the professors gathered around their usual table found themselves enveloped in a rare moment of silence. Professors Flitwick and Sprout exchanged glances, neither speaking, as muted voices from outside filtered in. It was unmistakably Professor McGonagall, reprimanding Fred Weasley. "Unauthorized spell-casting¡­ dueling without permission¡­ pushing your classmate into a tree¡­ Are you trying to get yourselves expelled? I can hardly imagine what your mother will say when she hears about this¡­" ¡°¡­Detention is a given. And as for Hogsmeade privileges? You can kiss those goodbye. Perhaps some time to reflect will help you learn¡­¡± Moments later, Fred''s voice, along with those of his companions, faded into the distance, leaving only the stern, clipped tones of Professor McGonagall, tinged with lingering exasperation. Oddly enough, her sharp words seemed to bring a collective sigh of relief from the professors at the table. "Well, at least they won''t have the chance to buy more Dungbombs," Professor Vector remarked dryly. ¡°Too right. Those things are far too potent,¡± Sprout chimed in with a grimace. ¡°Sometimes not even a Scourgify can get rid of the smell. Even as someone who works with dragon dung regularly for Herbology, I¡¯d rather not have that stench lingering in the corridors.¡± ¡°They¡¯ve practically monopolized Hogwarts¡¯ rule-breaking over the years,¡± Flitwick added with a shake of his head. ¡°If only those two would invest as much effort in their studies, we¡¯d see a sharp decline in incidents.¡± ¡°After all, half their free time is spent causing trouble, and the other half serving detention,¡± he concluded with a touch of exasperation. Hagrid and Professor Sprout both nodded vigorously, clearly familiar with the Weasley twins¡¯ antics. Even Professor Vector couldn¡¯t help but agree¡ªif not for their penchant for rule-breaking, the Marauder¡¯s Map might never have ended up in his possession. The shared sentiment brought an air of camaraderie to the table as they fell into lighthearted conversation. Their gathering at the Three Broomsticks had been McGonagall¡¯s idea¡ªa chance for the staff to bond. After all, aside from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who changed annually, most of the faculty at Hogwarts remained for years, building lasting connections. Even after retiring, they were likely to cross paths in the magical world. Hogwarts professors, being some of the most skilled wizards and witches in their respective fields, often found inspiration through such exchanges. At that moment, Rosmerta, the inn¡¯s graceful proprietor, approached their table, her elegant robes flowing around her. ¡°Here you go, Professor Flitwick¡ªyour red currant rum,¡± she announced with a warm smile, placing a dainty glass before him.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Thank you,¡± Flitwick replied courteously. ¡°And for Professor Sprout, an Irish whiskey cocktail, Hagrid¡¯s malt mead, and¡­ oh, yes, Professor Vector, your butterbeer,¡± she added, handing him a wooden tankard with a smile of recognition. ¡°Thank you,¡± Vector murmured, nodding politely. As she prepared to leave, Rosmerta hesitated, her curiosity piqued. Turning back to Vector, she asked, ¡°Professor Vector, might you be Victor Vandeboom? The same Victor Vandeboom who advises Gringotts?¡± ¡°Gringotts advisor?¡± Hagrid, mid-swig of his mead, nearly choked on the question. ¡°I thought Gringotts only employed goblins and the odd Curse-Breaker, like Bill Weasley!¡± ¡°They do¡ªusually. But this news broke just today,¡± Rosmerta confirmed, producing a magazine and flipping to the first page. The cover bore the title: The Quibbler. Flitwick and Sprout leaned in curiously to read over her shoulder. The headline screamed: ¡°Breaking News: Gringotts Hires Mysterious Wizard Advisor at Astronomical Salary!¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve heard of The Quibbler,¡± Sprout remarked skeptically. ¡°Its articles tend to be¡­ imaginative, to say the least.¡± ¡°True,¡± Rosmerta admitted with a chuckle. ¡°But occasionally, they do stumble upon something real.¡± As the professors discussed the publication, Vector glanced over the article, skimming its sensational details. "On the morning of September 7th, this writer received astonishing news: Gringotts'' Diagon Alley branch has added a new position to its internal roster¡ªa ¡®Chief Investment Advisor.¡¯ This role oversees market dealings, directly guiding Gringotts¡¯ transactions in the materials and financial markets. ¡°Sources close to the goblins claim that they place extraordinary trust in this advisor, often delaying major transactions until receiving their input. This marks a sharp departure from the goblins¡¯ traditionally insular practices, and the advisor¡¯s authority reportedly exceeds even the branch manager¡¯s¡ªessentially making them the de facto head of Gringotts operations! ¡°The advisor¡¯s identity? None other than Hogwarts¡¯ new Divination professor, Victor Vandeboom!¡± The article continued, delving into wild speculation: ¡°With the infamous Sybill Trelawney as his predecessor, the magical community has grown skeptical of Divination. Yet Vandeboom¡¯s reputation among goblins is impeccable, raising suspicions of an elaborate conspiracy. Could it be that Vandeboom is actually a goblin disguised as a wizard? Evidence includes his exceptional rapport with goblins, an allegedly ¡®unique¡¯ aura, and, most tellingly, his refusal to deny the claim outright¡­¡± When Sprout and Flitwick finished reading, they exchanged bemused looks, while Hagrid burst into hearty laughter, finding the theory preposterous. Vector, however, merely raised an eyebrow. ¡­It was, after all, the first time someone had questioned whether he was human since arriving in this world. Perhaps it was a testament to a certain ¡°spiritual sensitivity¡±? He noted the author¡¯s name¡ªXenophilius Lovegood¡ªbefore setting the magazine aside. As Vector did so, Rosmerta spoke again, her tone curious but kind. ¡°I remember Lovegood from his Hogwarts days. He often visited the pub to write odd little pieces and would sometimes share them with a girl who accompanied him.¡± Turning her attention back to Vector, she added, ¡°Of course, the idea of a goblin-turned-wizard is absurd, but¡­ are you really Gringotts¡¯ advisor?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Vector replied simply, nodding without hesitation. His confirmation drew startled glances from the other professors. As their curiosity deepened, he explained, ¡°The goblins do consult me on market trends¡ªmostly about which magical materials will yield the best profits. I use Divination to guide them toward the most favorable choices.¡± ¡°It¡¯s similar to the role of a royal seer or a fairy godmother¡ªusing magical insight to mitigate risks. And yes, it was entirely their idea to bring me on board.¡± ¡°¡­Why are you all looking at me like that? Is there a problem?¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 38: A Special Letter
In the cozy ambiance of the Three Broomsticks pub, the yellow candle flames flickered gently on the tables, casting a warm glow over the wooden furniture, nearby greenery, and a group of professors. Among them, Rosmerta and Hagrid sat wide-eyed, staring at Victor across the round table. Victor maintained his usual calm demeanor, as if guiding goblins was an entirely ordinary and effortless matter. Professor Flitwick¡¯s sharp voice was the first to break the silence, his eyes wide in astonishment: ¡°Are you saying they actively asked for your guidance? That¡¯s... normal?!¡± ¡°No, no, that¡¯s not the goblins I know,¡± Flitwick continued incredulously. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re unaware, but goblins in England have been around for over a thousand years. They¡¯re master craftsmen of alchemical artifacts¡ªGodric Gryffindor¡¯s sword was forged by them, for instance. But they hold the belief that any wealth they create should remain theirs forever, not belong to any purchaser. This philosophy is the root of their greatest conflict with wizards.¡± ¡°Later, the implementation of the Magical Species Regulation Act and its wand ban intensified these tensions. Goblins felt increasingly marginalized, leading to hostilities that sparked several goblin rebellions.¡± ¡°So now you see?¡± Flitwick shook his head with a sigh. ¡°The goblins I know don¡¯t have a particularly good opinion of wizards. Becoming a consultant at Gringotts is no small feat.¡± His words trailed off with another sigh, as though recalling some unpleasant memories. Victor glanced at Flitwick¡¯s small stature and immediately surmised the source of these reflections. Flitwick¡¯s goblin ancestry was evident in his appearance, and as a wizard, he likely faced disdain from both sides. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect goblins to have such personalities,¡± Victor remarked, slightly surprised. ¡°I thought they¡¯d be no different from... house-elves.¡± ¡°What kind of misunderstanding do you have about goblins?¡± Hagrid interjected with a chuckle. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anything more dissimilar!¡± ¡°Sounds like they treat you exceptionally well,¡± Professor Sprout added. ¡°You should teach us your approach,¡± Flitwick suggested earnestly. ¡°It would certainly benefit the students¡ªmany sixth and seventh-years hope to work at Gringotts.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Victor replied after taking a sip of butterbeer. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing particularly special about it. The key is to bring goblins money¡ªbetter yet, teach them how to make more.¡± ¡°Whoever brings them wealth will always be their friend.¡± At this, Victor couldn¡¯t help recalling various goblin-related tales from his side of the world. Compared to the rebellious goblins of the wizarding world, those in fairy tales were laughably incompetent¡ªeither tricked into losing their labor or defeated outright by humans.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Take Rumpelstiltskin, for example. He diligently spun straw into gold overnight for a girl, only to be denied his promised reward. He sighed. ¡°...But English goblins are certainly skilled in negotiation.¡± ¡°No argument there,¡± the professors nodded in agreement. While they didn¡¯t entirely grasp Victor¡¯s point, they all knew one thing: goblins loved money. Rosmerta smiled warmly and added, ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, Professor Victor.¡± ¡°And since they respect your divination skills, it seems Hogwarts has gained a truly talented Divination professor. I have no doubt the O.W.L.s results for Divination this year will be outstanding.¡± As she finished, Rosmerta suddenly remembered something. With a slight gasp, she slapped her forehead. ¡°Oh! I nearly forgot! If you¡¯re the Gringotts consultant I think you are, I have a letter for you. A barn owl delivered it earlier¡ªseemed to have lost its sense of direction and ended up in the kitchen.¡± Reaching into her apron pocket, she produced a parchment envelope and handed it to Victor. The envelope was old-fashioned, sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the emblem of a roaring dragon¡ªthe Gringotts insignia. The recipient¡¯s name read: To Mr. Vandeboom, Gringotts Consultant. Victor raised an eyebrow and opened the letter. The contents read:
Dear Mr. Vandeboom, Regarding the theft on July 31st, the internal investigation team at Gringotts has made preliminary findings. Following your earlier suggestion, we¡¯ve upgraded the security measures for the main entrance and vaults. During this process, however, we uncovered some traces left by the intruder. It appears the intruder interacted with items from other vaults. Magical investigation indicates the culprit¡¯s trail leads near Hogwarts. Given the severe blow this incident has dealt to Gringotts¡¯ reputation, we urgently request your continued investigation within the school grounds and are prepared to offer any ¡°compensation¡± necessary. Note: The stolen vault originally housed the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, deposited by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Sincerely, Brickin, Manager, Diagon Alley Branch, Gringotts
Victor¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. The ransacked vault belonged to Dumbledore? And the suspect might now be near Hogwarts? This was big news. But Victor wasn¡¯t entirely surprised¡ªany dark wizard capable of breaching Gringotts¡¯ defenses would likely match the power level of someone like Dumbledore. He scanned the letter again, his gaze lingering on one intricately written word: Philosopher¡¯s Stone. ¡°Is it something important?¡± Hagrid asked curiously, noticing Victor¡¯s increasingly pensive expression. ¡°...Not particularly.¡± Victor folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. Without divulging the letter¡¯s contents, he said vaguely, ¡°Gringotts is just asking me to investigate something.¡± By dusk, any lingering awkwardness among the professors had dissipated entirely. Victor had gained some insight into their personalities: Professor Sprout was remarkably patient, even when students accidentally uprooted several mandrakes; Professor Flitwick was thrilled about the Boy Who Lived attending Hogwarts, eager to unravel the secret of his survival; and Hagrid was, unsurprisingly, obsessed with magical creatures. Hagrid left the deepest impression. After asking briefly about Victor¡¯s rapport with goblins, he immediately became fixated on the ¡°fairies¡± Victor had casually mentioned earlier, convinced they were magical beings unique to the Far East. Victor spent a considerable amount of time deflecting Hagrid¡¯s fervent questions before they finally returned to the castle. During this time, Victor noticed a small but curious detail: Professor Quirrell hadn¡¯t joined their conversation. Instead, he had slipped away somewhere on his own, returning only when it was time to leave. He emerged from a nearby alley, looking thoroughly exhausted. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 39: Dumbledores Plan ¡°That way, over there.¡± ¡°See him? The one in the black cloak.¡± ¡°Yes, the one who looks just like the old bat. That¡¯s him¡ªGringotts¡¯ consultant, the new Divination professor. They say even the goblins follow his advice!¡± ¡°Hey, do you think if I apply for a job there, he could pull some strings for me?¡± The next morning, as Victor walked to the Great Hall, the corridors buzzed with whispers like these. Groups of students gathered, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of his retreating figure. Few dared to discuss him openly, but Victor could still clearly hear their hushed conversations. All of this stemmed from the front-page headline in that morning¡¯s Daily Prophet. Professor Flitwick had guessed correctly¡ªVictor¡¯s appointment as Gringotts¡¯ sole wizarding consultant had indeed made waves. Unlike the sensationalized ¡°Goblinman¡± headlines in The Quibbler, the Daily Prophet had labeled him: ¡°A Bridge Between Goblins and Wizards, the Ideal Candidate to Mend Centuries of Discord.¡± That improved Victor¡¯s mood somewhat. For once, he was being portrayed positively. Back when word got out about his rapport with dragons, the kingdom¡¯s response was far from kind¡ªChurch spokesmen and bardic poets had practically accused him of uniting dark forces, raising the difficulty of dragon-slaying quests, and scheming to bring the entire realm to ruin. ¡­Still, when he went door-to-door explaining himself, public opinion of him somehow rebounded. Ahem, but that¡¯s off-topic. By the time Victor reached the Great Hall, he had received numerous congratulations from students and professors alike. The news had spread across campus almost instantly with the newspaper''s distribution, and suddenly, he was quite popular again¡ªparticularly among upper-year students. Everyone wanted to curry favor with him, whether they¡¯d taken Divination or not, hoping it might lead to an advantage in securing a lucrative position at Gringotts. Victor had to put in some effort to extricate himself from the crowd. Unlike the enthusiastic students, his expression was contemplative, as though he had worked through something significant the night before. Not long after, he approached Professor Dumbledore, who was just about to leave the hall. The corridor leading to the staff table was quiet, with few people around. Under the flickering candlelight, Dumbledore¡¯s tall, slender figure was particularly striking. Today, he wore a set of deep purple robes that lent him an air of dignity, though the golden stars embroidered across the fabric hinted at his whimsical nature. ¡°Headmaster Dumbledore,¡± Victor called out, striding toward him.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Dumbledore turned, his eyes twinkling as he recognized Victor. ¡°Good morning,¡± he said warmly. ¡°I heard about your news, Victor. It seems our earlier decision was the right one. Hogwarts now has a Divination professor focused on practical applications. I imagine our students¡¯ employment prospects will improve greatly this year.¡± ¡°I actually have quite a bit I¡¯d like to discuss with you,¡± Dumbledore added. ¡°But I assume you¡¯ve come to talk to me about something as well?¡± After exchanging pleasantries, Victor got straight to the point. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s about the July 31st break-in at Gringotts.¡± Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡± Victor succinctly recounted the details mentioned in the letter he¡¯d received, though he omitted the part about his deal with Gringotts. Instead, he emphasized his concerns for the school¡¯s safety. Dumbledore frowned as he listened, but his only notable reaction came when Victor mentioned the ¡°Philosopher¡¯s Stone.¡± His eyebrows arched in mild surprise. ¡°Oh, I had no idea the goblins were so well-informed about the contents of their vaults,¡± Dumbledore remarked with a wry shake of his head. ¡°¡­But you needn¡¯t worry yourself over this matter, Professor Victor. Both the students and the Stone are quite safe. The rogue wizard in question cannot harm them.¡± Dumbledore¡¯s tone was light, almost unconcerned, yet it carried a calming assurance. Victor, however, pressed on. ¡°But I¡¯m quite certain that some individuals are far more suspicious than others¡ªlike our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.¡± Quirrell had always been a furtive figure, and identifying him as the most suspicious among the faculty had been no challenge for Victor. After all, he only needed to ¡°see.¡± When the letter mentioned the Gringotts suspect being spotted near Hogwarts, Victor didn¡¯t even need to perform a Divination to conclude that Quirrell was the likely culprit. Besides, since Gringotts was willing to pay for confirmation of the suspect¡¯s identity, he stood to gain from the arrangement without much effort. After all, Quirrell had already turned down one of his deals; it wouldn¡¯t hurt to leverage him a little more, right? ¡°I think the school ought to investigate him¡ªat the very least, figure out what¡¯s under that turban of his,¡± Victor said blandly. ¡°I doubt it¡¯s just onions.¡± Unexpectedly, Dumbledore shook his head firmly, cutting Victor off before he could continue. ¡°This isn¡¯t a matter of suspicion, Professor Victor,¡± Dumbledore said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you investigating Professor Quirrell in any capacity. Your concerns should remain private. In fact, Professor Snape has also raised this issue with me, and my response to him was the same.¡± ¡°¡­The school must not initiate an inquiry against a professor without concrete evidence. As a wizard holding a position in the Wizengamot, I trust you will respect this principle.¡± Dumbledore sighed, as though troubled by something, but he didn¡¯t elaborate. He brushed off the subject of Quirrell and the Defense Against the Dark Arts position with little fanfare. Still, his genial demeanor had noticeably dimmed. The twinkle in his aging blue eyes was replaced by a pensive severity as he stared at the ground in thought. When he finally snapped out of it, he suddenly clapped a hand to his forehead, his tone shifting back to cheerful. ¡°Ah, I almost forgot.¡± ¡°There¡¯s something not-so-secret I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you¡ª¡± ¡°Professor Victor, do you know any special spells that could repel intruders while incapacitating them without causing serious harm? Ideally, something that wouldn¡¯t endanger students if they stumbled into it?¡± ¡°In fact, the Philosopher¡¯s Stone is currently stored at the end of the fourth-floor corridor. Most of the staff have already placed protective enchantments over the summer. I thought perhaps you¡¯d be willing to contribute as well.¡± ¡­Protective enchantments? Victor raised an eyebrow, mulling it over. Finally, he connected the dots between Dumbledore¡¯s insistence on due process and his broader strategy. Realization dawned on him. So, it¡¯s a trap. Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely unreasonable. If it meant getting results without expending additional effort, it was worth waiting a bit longer. And this way, he wouldn¡¯t even have to apprehend Quirrell himself¡ªDumbledore would handle that for him. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 40: The Challenge Victor readily agreed to Dumbledore¡¯s request. In fact, he found it oddly familiar¡ªeight out of ten of his friends had asked him to do similar things before. They all tended to have substantial wealth or magical artifacts that needed guarding. As a result, Victor had a repertoire of defensive spells at his disposal¡ªnot just one or two, but an entire arsenal spanning a wide range of magical and physical protections. If necessary, he could even sketch a blueprint for Dumbledore on the spot: a fortress with twelve shaky, trap-laden narrow paths, eight pressure plates that triggered poison darts, two rope elevators that would fling intruders into ceiling spikes, and a biting treasure chest masquerading as loot. Don¡¯t ask who this was for, but as far as Victor knew, no one had ever made it through that fortress alive without multiple attempts. Unfortunately, Hogwarts had no need for such intricate designs. After reaching an agreement, Victor retrieved a peculiar pouch from his office. Dumbledore then led him directly to the end of the fourth-floor corridor, stopping in front of a locked door. "Alohomora." Dumbledore murmured softly. The lock clicked open. Victor raised an eyebrow. "That¡¯s the most basic unlocking charm. Isn¡¯t it a bit... underwhelming for security?" ¡°True,¡± Dumbledore admitted, ¡°but if it were fully sealed, Hagrid wouldn¡¯t be able to get in. And that would be rather unfair to Fluffy. ¡°To be honest, I already feel a bit guilty about keeping him in such a confined space.¡± Fluffy. Victor didn¡¯t recognize the name at first. But the moment Dumbledore cracked the door open, Victor immediately understood to whom the name belonged. It was a giant, three-headed dog. The creature¡¯s six eyes, bloodshot and brimming with hostility, were the first thing they saw. The beast was so massive that it filled every inch of space from floor to ceiling. Its three heads sniffed the air, nostrils twitching and trembling in their direction. Three drooling mouths dripped thick, rope-like saliva from its yellowed fangs. The three heads were fused together in a grotesque manner. Even with its black fur covering the joins, Victor could discern the distorted skeletal structure binding them. The dog stared at them for a moment before erupting into a thunderous triple roar: ¡°ROOOOAAARRR!!!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mind him¡ªlooks fierce, I know,¡± Dumbledore said, raising his voice over the cacophony. ¡°But Hagrid trained Fluffy well¡ªhe leaves enough time for someone to escape in case of accidental entry.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Well, that¡¯s... considerate.¡± Victor glanced at the dog, taking a step back to avoid the spray of saliva flying in all directions as the three-headed beast roared. After a while, Fluffy¡¯s barks subsided. He scratched at the floor, seemingly ready to lunge at them. But Dumbledore calmly pulled out his wand¡ªa peculiar, knotted wand of a pale, ivory-like texture with an unusual sheen. It immediately caught Victor¡¯s attention. With a casual flick, Dumbledore conjured stone hands from the walls, floor, and doorframe to restrain the dog firmly. ¡°Hogwarts generally restricts the use of Transfiguration,¡± Dumbledore explained with a smile, lowering his wand, ¡°but the headmaster is granted a few... privileges.¡± Victor nodded noncommittally. With Fluffy subdued, the trapdoor beneath the dog became visible. ¡°This way.¡± Dumbledore stepped forward, and Fluffy, still bound by the stone hands, barked deafeningly as they passed. It snapped its jaws, spraying more saliva, causing Victor to grimace as he sidestepped the mess. ¡°Whine... whimper...¡± The intimidating three-headed dog suddenly shrank back, its six ears folding flat as if sensing something ominous. By then, Victor had already reached the trapdoor. He watched Dumbledore jump through it, then stepped forward himself and followed. Wind howled in their ears as they descended the dark, narrow chute. Though the fall lasted only a few seconds, the height was more than enough to cause serious injury. Just before hitting the ground, Dumbledore waved his wand, summoning a cushion of air that gently caught both of them. Victor lowered his hand, which had been raised in preparation. ¡°Click.¡± Their shoes touched down softly on the stone floor. ¡°My apologies for interfering with your own preparations,¡± Dumbledore remarked with a smile. Victor shook his head. ¡°Just a simple precautionary spell¡ªsurely you don¡¯t expect a wizard to die from a fall.¡± Beneath his cloak, the faint outline of black feather-like shapes flickered in the shadows. ¡°Lumos.¡± A small blue light illuminated the pitch-black room. Twisting vines crept along the walls, reaching out with claw-like tendrils toward their faces. Though the light didn¡¯t deter the plants, the short drop had kept them from falling directly into the thicket. For now, neither of them was entangled. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving. These are Professor Sprout¡¯s handiwork. Best not to test their limits,¡± Dumbledore said cheerfully, using Transfiguration to hold back the advancing vines. Eventually, they entered a room filled with flying keys. ¡°Sorry, Victor, but your enchantments will have to share space with Professor Flitwick¡¯s for now. Once I arrange for another room, we¡¯ll move them.¡± ¡°How do you plan to set it up? I¡¯d love to see it.¡± Dumbledore looked on curiously as Victor opened his pouch, tipping its contents onto the floor. Grains of all shapes and colors spilled out like a fountain, covering the ground. Dumbledore¡¯s smile froze, a puzzled look crossing his face. ¡°Professor Victor, what exactly are you planning?¡± ¡°Simple. Intruders will have to sort these grains.¡± Victor spoke matter-of-factly. ¡°I¡¯ll provide small boxes. They¡¯ll need to separate the grains by type and color, then shell them. Only when they¡¯ve collected enough weight will the door open.¡± Dumbledore hesitated, clearly torn. ¡°That... sounds time-consuming. And while it might deter ordinary wizards, experienced spellcasters could bypass it...¡± Victor replied calmly, ¡°Delaying them is the point, Headmaster. The longer we stall intruders, the better our chances of catching them.¡± ¡°Besides, sorting the grains is only the first step.¡± Victor¡¯s tone turned sharper. ¡°Hidden among the thousands of grains are five thousand cursed ones. Step on the wrong one, and you¡¯ll be turned into a flightless swan. Another four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine will rapidly age you into a decrepit old crone. ¡°Out of all the grains, only one contains a randomly appearing seed every thirty seconds. This seed will grant access to the next level¡ªbut only to the one who finds it.¡± ¡°...And that¡¯s just the beginning.¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 41: Even Voldemort Would Take Half a Day to Get Through! Dumbledore fell silent, deep in thought. He took a step back, carefully avoiding the grains that spilled and gathered at his feet. The room was originally designed by Professor Flitwick, lit by magical candles burning in every corner, casting their glow across the space. Overhead, the faint rustling of wings came from countless tiny, flying keys, glittering like gems as they darted about under the vaulted ceiling. These animated keys vividly showcased Flitwick''s exceptional skill in charms. ¡ªBut compared to Viktor''s 9,999 cursed grains, Flitwick''s arrangement seemed like child''s play. ¡°...I wasn¡¯t aware that you had such advanced expertise in curses, Professor Viktor,¡± Dumbledore remarked after a moment¡¯s silence. ¡°The spell you mentioned earlier for aging¡ªis it an Aging Charm?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s a different common curse from my homeland. With the right potion, it¡¯s reversible,¡± Viktor explained. ¡°The curse hasn¡¯t activated yet, Headmaster. You don¡¯t need to stand so far back. It only takes effect when the clock strikes midnight.¡± ¡°I see... Quite ingenious...¡± Dumbledore observed the grains thoughtfully for a while before asking with interest, ¡°You mentioned this was just the first step? Are there more to follow?¡± Viktor nodded, moving to the bag that continued to spew grains. Reaching inside with a slight effort, he pulled out an enormous, gold-framed oil painting. The painting depicted an ugly goblin with a wrinkled face, its features scrunched together around a long, pointed nose. Its beetle-like eyes gleamed maliciously as it tugged at its hair in a rage, stomping its feet against what appeared to be the wooden floor of a tavern. ¡°This painting is called Rumpelstiltskin''s Failure,¡± Viktor explained casually as he mounted it on the door leading to the next room. ¡°It was a gift from a bard who thought it amusing to depict a foolish goblin.¡± ¡°Ah, old age makes one curious about everything. Why is this goblin foolish?¡± ¡°He helped a farmer¡¯s daughter spin straw into gold, enabling her to become queen. In return, he demanded her firstborn child. But when the queen gave birth, she refused to honor the deal, so he gave her a second chance.¡± Viktor paused, but Dumbledore immediately understood. Granting a second chance in a deal like that wasn¡¯t exactly wise.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The mention of ¡°child¡± in the story made Dumbledore frown slightly, sensing the underlying cruelty of the tale. ¡°The second chance involved guessing his name. He believed it was unique and unguessable. Yet, in a drunken revelry, he boasted about it in a tavern, where someone overheard and told the queen. Thus, he foolishly labored in vain. In his fury, he tore himself in half.¡± As Viktor spoke, he carried the painting to the door, hung it in place, and stepped back. At that moment, the goblin in the painting sprang to life. Its twisted features contorted with anger as it shrieked, ¡°That¡¯s not true! ¡°It was the devil who told her! The devil!¡± Its eyes, however, glared directly at Viktor. In a fit of rage, the goblin stomped its foot, driving it into the tavern¡¯s floorboards. It let out another angry cry as it tried to yank its foot free. Dumbledore watched as gray smoke began to rise from the goblin¡¯s body in the painting, as though it might split in two. ¡°If you move another inch, I¡¯ll ensure you never move again,¡± Viktor said calmly. The goblin¡¯s shrieking ceased abruptly. It froze, staring at Viktor with a mix of fear and resignation. After a long pause, it withdrew its foot and stood upright, its composure seemingly restored. Once it stood still, the tavern¡¯s floor in the painting repaired itself, the wood regrowing seamlessly, as though nothing had happened. The goblin straightened and asked respectfully, ¡°My apologies. What do you require of me?¡± Viktor¡¯s tone was icy. ¡°Guard this room. Do not let anyone pass until they present a grain from the pile. Even then, challenge them with riddles. Only those who solve fifty-six riddles in a row may proceed. If anyone attempts to force their way through, provoke them into attacking you. The enchantments on the frame will activate automatically.¡± ¡°Pardon me,¡± Dumbledore interjected with a polite smile. ¡°What exactly do the frame¡¯s enchantments entail?¡± ¡°They¡¯re protective runes inscribed during the painting¡¯s creation. They retaliate against anyone who casts a spell on it.¡± ¡°For reassurance, I should clarify¡ªsafe and harmless retaliation?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Viktor replied, adding pointedly, ¡°just an enhanced Stupefy spell. I read through Wizarding Law thoroughly when I first arrived in England. I¡¯d never do anything against the rules.¡± ¡°...That puts my mind at ease.¡± Dumbledore rubbed his temples, as though reluctant to ponder why Viktor had immediately read Wizarding Law. After a moment, he added, ¡°I may need to revisit this room later to adjust the protective spells with the other professors. Fifty-six riddles might be a bit... excessive.¡± ¡°I can instruct the painting to allow you through, Headmaster.¡± ¡°No,¡± Dumbledore shook his head. ¡°That could be exploited by someone using Polyjuice Potion. Let¡¯s set a passphrase instead.¡± ¡°How about... ¡®Open sesame¡¯?¡± Viktor¡¯s expression remained impassive as he stared at Dumbledore for a long moment. Finally, he turned to the painting and gave a slight nod. ¡°Very well.¡± ¡°Settled then,¡± Dumbledore said cheerfully, turning to leave with Viktor. Before departing, he couldn¡¯t help but remark, ¡°I must say, your protective enchantments might be the most challenging of all the obstacles¡ªso formidable that even Voldemort himself would need half a day to get through.¡± ¡°At that point, Voldemort might very well shout, ¡®Riddler, get out of Hogwarts!¡¯¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 42: A Private Discussion with Harry As Dumbledore and Viktor exchanged polite nods in the fourth-floor corridor, their departure caught the curious glances of several students. Yet most Hogwarts students had no desire to venture where the headmaster had explicitly warned of danger¡ªwhy tempt fate unnecessarily? Hogwarts soon returned to its usual calm. While Viktor headed toward the North Tower, Dumbledore ascended several staircases, arriving at his office on the eighth floor. There, Professor Minerva McGonagall stood waiting by the eagle-headed gargoyle, clutching a stack of thick documents. Upon hearing Dumbledore¡¯s return, she turned to him. "Albus, I¡¯ve been waiting for quite a while," she remarked, handing him the pile of papers. "These are documents requiring your approval¡ªmostly from the Ministry of Magic, with a few from the Board of Governors." "Lucius Malfoy is still upset about his son fainting on the school train. He¡¯s showing no signs of letting the matter rest. And we all know he has no real grounds. Honestly, the boy had the audacity to publicly insult Harry¡¯s parents on the train!" "I¡¯ll handle the matter appropriately," Dumbledore said with a shake of his head. Professor McGonagall sighed. "But he¡¯s involved Gringotts and certain Ministry officials. Who knows what¡¯s gotten into those goblins¡ªthey¡¯re pressuring us for a thorough security review..." "Oh, that issue has already been resolved," Dumbledore said, stroking his long, white beard. "The goblins¡¯ urgency stems from the progress of their investigation. Somehow, they¡¯ve discovered that the suspect is near Hogwarts, and they¡¯re eager to crack the case to restore their reputation." "I¡¯ve already involved Professor Viktor in strengthening our protective spells. I suspect he¡¯ll address the goblins¡¯ concerns as part of the process." McGonagall tightened her grip on the books she was holding and said quietly, "The suspect? Does this mean... he¡¯s already inside?" "You know we cannot keep him out," Dumbledore replied gravely. "But Albus, I still don¡¯t understand. Why not thoroughly search the school first? With so many capable professors, we could apprehend him before he causes trouble. There¡¯s no need to risk allowing him to roam freely within Hogwarts." Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. His once-bright blue eyes, now tinged with fatigue, revealed a vulnerability seldom seen in the powerful wizard. In that moment, he seemed less like a formidable sorcerer in control of everything and more like an aging man. "I¡¯m not as young as I used to be, Minerva. But his methods of survival remain unclear. Everyone claims Voldemort is dead, or at most a disembodied spirit, but you and I know better." At the mention of that name, McGonagall¡¯s lips trembled, as though she was reliving the terror and loss that had gripped the wizarding world years ago.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Dumbledore paused before continuing: "I don¡¯t know how he survived. Lily¡ªshe used a form of ancient magic that turned his own curse against him. I¡¯ve examined the site thoroughly, and by all accounts, he should be dead. Yet he is not." "I don¡¯t understand how he managed it. Even if we capture him now, I don¡¯t know how to destroy him completely. If he chooses to retreat into the shadows and wait, he could reemerge years later. By then, I may no longer be here to stop him." "Albus¡ª" "I know what you mean, Minerva," Dumbledore interrupted, shaking his head. "But death is inevitable. I don¡¯t intend to avoid it. I only wish to ensure the wizarding world¡¯s safety and see that the Order of the Phoenix¡¯s efforts aren¡¯t in vain." A heavy silence fell between them. Although the war against Voldemort had ended a decade ago, its shadow still lingered over the wizarding world, making such solemn discussions unavoidable. The flickering candlelight by the spiraling staircase cast their elongated shadows on the wall. After a moment, Dumbledore shifted the topic. Stroking his beard thoughtfully, he asked, "What do you think of Viktor?" "Professor Viktor?" McGonagall was momentarily caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject but quickly regained her composure. "Well... he¡¯s competent, though his manner of speaking is rather peculiar. Sometimes, I find him difficult to read. He seems close to Severus, which might suggest he aligns with the pure-bloods..." Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "That¡¯s not a concern." "Oh?" "He doesn¡¯t subscribe to pure-blood ideology. I overheard him talking to Quirrell at the start of term¡ªhe openly admitted he¡¯s Muggle-born and even expressed disdain for pure-blood supremacy. His tone was far too genuine to be a lie." "That¡¯s surprising." "Indeed," Dumbledore mused with a faint smile. "It seems not all Slytherin-like individuals are cut from the same cloth as Voldemort." "Even so, we must remain vigilant. While he may reject pure-blood ideals, his methods resemble dark magic. I¡¯ll keep an eye on him, and you should do the same, Minerva. Ensure he doesn¡¯t cross any lines." "Understood," McGonagall replied with a nod. After a brief pause, she added with some hesitation, "But Albus, he recently gave Harry a book¡ªFrom Bloodlines to Curses. I skimmed through it, and it¡¯s filled with dark spells and curses. I wanted to tell him not to give such material to a child... but for a Slytherin, it¡¯s hardly unusual!" "Simply instruct him to avoid teaching anything that violates school rules or wizarding law. Professor Viktor has studied legal codes and should understand the boundaries." Even as he said this, Dumbledore¡¯s expression betrayed a hint of uncertainty. Elsewhere, Harry Potter¡¯s days had been going rather well. Though the snake incident at the start of term earned him some peculiar looks, his repeated clashes with Slytherins had gradually dispelled such reactions. "A Gryffindor who doesn¡¯t confront Slytherins isn¡¯t a true Gryffindor!" And, of course, the sentiment was mutual. Recently, Harry had experienced a major milestone: during a flying lesson, he violated the rules by using his broomstick¡ªbut the incident caught Professor McGonagall¡¯s attention and earned him a spot on the Quidditch team. The following morning, during breakfast, a peculiar package attracted everyone¡¯s attention¡ªa long, thin parcel carried by six large-eared owls. Harry, like everyone else, was eager to know what was inside. To his surprise, the owls deposited the package directly in front of him, accompanied by two additional letters. "For me?" Harry stared at the package in amazement. Ron, munching on bacon, leaned over curiously as Harry opened one of the letters, signed by Professor McGonagall. Harry tore it open first¡ªthankfully so. The letter read: "Do not open the package on the table. It contains your new broomstick, the Nimbus 2000. I don¡¯t want everyone to know you¡¯ve received it, lest they all demand one." "Cool!" Ron exclaimed enviously. "A Nimbus 2000! I¡¯ve never even touched one!" Harry, unable to hide his excitement, carefully ran his hand along the elongated parcel. His very first gift! It was then he noticed the third package beside him¡ªa square-shaped box. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 43: Imperio (The Imperius Curse) ¡°Hey! Open that one up too,¡± Ron suggested excitedly. ¡°It might be a training guide from Professor McGonagall, like The Rise and Fall of Quidditch. Let me borrow it after you''re done!¡± ¡°Of course!¡± Harry shared Ron¡¯s enthusiasm and eagerly reached out to unwrap the package. What slid out, however, was far from what they expected: a book with a peculiar, writhing cover, as if alive, titled From Bloodlines to Curses. It was the very book Professor McGonagall had confiscated. Harry and Ron stared at it in surprise. Harry had thought he would never see the book again, yet here it was, back in his hands. Soon, Harry noticed a small note tucked into the side of the book, written in a familiar cursive script:
"Harry, Professor McGonagall has returned this book to me, mentioning your improper use of its spells earlier this term. She asked that I supervise your learning of similar magic. I¡¯ve marked spells that violate school rules¡ªdo not use them on people. ¡ªProfessor V. Vonderboom"
Ron paused for a moment before remarking dryly, ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s not what Professor McGonagall meant.¡± ¡°Speaking of which, don¡¯t you think this Professor Vonderboom is a bit... odd?¡± Ron added. ¡°Doesn¡¯t he hang out with Snape a lot? Professors who mingle with Slytherins are always harsh¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re not the same at all,¡± Harry said firmly. Unfortunately, the seventh-years who¡¯d lost two house points because of Professor Vonderboom might disagree. Ron gave Harry an incredulous look, wondering if his friend had been brainwashed. But since Ron hadn¡¯t interacted much with Professor Vonderboom himself, he scratched his head and turned his attention back to Harry¡¯s broomstick package. Meanwhile, Harry opened From Bloodlines to Curses and began flipping through it, looking for the markings Professor Vonderboom had mentioned. He soon found a small "X" marked before a section titled Understanding Curses and Counter-Curses Through Familial Inheritance. Next to it was a hastily scrawled note:
"X Per school regulations, the following spells are restricted to Auror trainees."
Aurors? Harry wasn¡¯t familiar with the term. Curious, he flipped through the next few pages, but all he found were illustrations of withered flowers, decayed blossoms, and leaves full of holes. The spells themselves made little sense to him, except that they seemed to cause various kinds of impediments. As Harry turned to the last page, the corner of the book unexpectedly nicked his hand, leaving a shallow cut.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Ouch.¡± Harry instinctively shook his hand, but as he did, he noticed something strange. The text on the last page began to vanish, replaced by new words that surfaced from the paper. A drop of his blood had soaked into the page and disappeared without a trace. What¡¯s going on? Harry stared in surprise. The new text revealed a spell written in elegant handwriting, accompanied by a hand-drawn illustration of a flower bound by countless threads. Above the flower hovered a semi-transparent phantom, its meaning unclear. Imperio¡­? Harry sounded out the name of the spell. ¡°What does it mean?¡± He read the accompanying description, which was frustratingly vague. The training notes merely stated, ¡°Requires the caster to possess an understanding of and sensitivity to the soul.¡± The effects section was no more helpful, consisting of a single word: ¡°Control.¡± Confused, Harry stared at the page. At that moment, Hermione Granger walked by. Harry decided to ask her something first. ¡°Hermione, do you know what an Auror is?¡± Hermione¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, and her voice rose. ¡°You don¡¯t know what an Auror is?¡± Harry sheepishly shook his head. ¡°Is it something I should know?¡± ¡°Of course! Aurors are the magical police. They¡¯re responsible for maintaining order in the wizarding world. During the Dark Lord¡¯s reign, they were the main force resisting him.¡± ¡°Wow¡­ I had no idea.¡± Hermione shook her head in disbelief. ¡°You really need to think about your future, Harry. How can you not know about Aurors when planning your career and studies?¡± ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t thought that far ahead,¡± Harry admitted awkwardly. ¡°So, Auror spells must be really advanced?¡± ¡°Obviously. Aurors are the best of the best. They only recruit one or two people every few years. It¡¯s the dream job for many top students. I¡¯ve even considered it, but then I thought¡­¡± Harry appreciated Hermione¡¯s answer, but her endless lecture was hard to endure. By the end, his mind had wandered. He glanced back at the Imperio spell, thinking: This must be a very advanced spell, only manageable by Aurors. Auror¡­ That sounds like an interesting career. The idea lingered in his mind as he reread Professor Vonderboom¡¯s note, which explicitly prohibited using the spell on people or in public. Since there didn¡¯t seem to be any danger in practicing it, Harry decided: Maybe I¡¯ll try it on a bug or something later. And who knows? A spell like this might even impress the professors. ¡°So, you¡¯re keeping this book?¡± As they left the Great Hall, Ron fiddled with the broomstick package and asked. ¡°It looks like something from Slytherin, you know. Anything associated with them tends to be dodgy. Remember, McGonagall didn¡¯t want you learning this stuff.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s just curses, not Dark Magic¡­¡± Harry hesitated. ¡°It should be fine, right?¡± ¡°Fred knows plenty of curses, and he says they¡¯re great for dealing with Slytherins since they use them too. If we don¡¯t learn them, Malfoy might use them against us.¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, Ron agreed. ¡°True. Fred does know that tongue-lengthening curse. Mum gave him an earful about it over the summer. As long as it¡¯s just those kinds of spells, it should be okay.¡± ¡°Actually, that snake-summoning spell you used last time wasn¡¯t bad. It¡¯s just too bad snakes are unlucky. If only you could summon a lion instead¡­¡± ¡°...Summon a lion, and Malfoy would drop dead,¡± Harry replied dryly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll steer clear of anything Slytherin-related from now on.¡± Harry still disliked Slytherin. It wasn¡¯t because of their ambition or their family magic¡ªif anything, he envied that. No, what bothered him was their obsession with pure-blood superiority. Oh, and Snape and Malfoy, of course. As if on cue, Malfoy and his cronies appeared just as Harry and Ron turned a corner to examine the broomstick. ¡°Well, well, what do we have here?¡± Malfoy sneered. ¡°Harry Potter and his broomstick! You do know first-years aren¡¯t allowed broomsticks, right?¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 44: Freds Unlucky Day
Harry and Ron hurried out of the Great Hall, eager to find a secluded spot to unwrap the package and test out the broomstick before their first class. However, as they crossed the entrance hall, their way upstairs was blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. At the front of the group stood Malfoy, glaring at them. His sharp eyes immediately noticed the way Ron was clutching the package and deduced it contained a broomstick. ¡°You¡¯re in for detention, Potter. First-years aren¡¯t allowed to have those,¡± Malfoy sneered, his tone tinged with jealousy and resentment¡ªclear even to Harry. It was obvious Malfoy was still holding a grudge over their earlier encounter. On the train at the start of the term, Malfoy had fainted after Harry¡¯s ¡°Wriggling Wands¡± spell sent him flying into the door. The incident was already embarrassing enough, but after being exaggerated and embellished by other students, it became downright humiliating. Even Marcus Flint had openly mocked Malfoy, saying he was no better than ¡°those Mudbloods.¡± Malfoy had been stewing ever since, constantly scheming to make Harry¡¯s life difficult. Unfortunately for him, he hadn¡¯t succeeded even once. First, Harry wasn¡¯t afraid of him at all. Second, Harry had learned a few effective jinxes over the summer that gave him the upper hand. Although Malfoy had managed to lure Harry into sneaking out at night for a duel a few days ago, Filch hadn¡¯t caught them, leaving Malfoy still at a disadvantage. ¡°Move along, Malfoy,¡± Harry said. ¡°Unless you¡¯re planning to faint again and blame me for it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to lift a finger. That junky broom of yours will¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, Malfoy, don¡¯t you know?¡± Ron couldn¡¯t help interrupting. ¡°That¡¯s not just any broomstick¡ªit¡¯s a Nimbus 2000. Remind me, what do you have at home? A Comet 260?¡± ¡°Comets are decent, sure, but they¡¯re not even in the same league as a Nimbus.¡± ¡°How would you know, Weasley? You can¡¯t even afford half a broomstick!¡± Malfoy shot back viciously. ¡°I bet you and your brothers have to cobble one together out of twigs.¡± Before Ron could reply, Fred and George suddenly appeared behind Malfoy. Sauntering down the hallway with their third-year Charms textbooks in hand, they flanked Malfoy and loomed over him menacingly.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Is there a problem here?¡± Fred asked casually. Malfoy, now trapped between the twins, reluctantly fell silent. Fred then turned to Harry, putting on an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. ¡°Ah, if it isn¡¯t our newest team member! Harry, is that the broomstick Professor McGonagall got for you?¡± ¡°Of course, only the best for our Gryffindor Seeker,¡± George added with a grin. ¡°Youngest Seeker in a century, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Tell us, Harry,¡± Fred chimed in, ¡°how did you manage to get it? Was it McGonagall¡¯s idea?¡± Harry, stifling a laugh, kept his expression neutral and replied, ¡°Nothing much to say. I owe it all to Mr. Malfoy here. If he hadn¡¯t stolen Neville¡¯s Remembrall, Professor McGonagall wouldn¡¯t have noticed¡­ my talents.¡± The trio¡¯s banter left Malfoy speechless, his face cycling through shades of red before settling on a dark, angry flush. ¡°Don¡¯t get too smug, Potter,¡± Malfoy hissed, wrenching himself free from Fred¡¯s grip. ¡°My father¡¯s a school governor¡ªhe¡¯ll make sure this gets overturned!¡± With that, he stormed off, dragging Crabbe and Goyle along. The gust of wind they stirred up even made nearby candles flicker. The Gryffindors watched them retreat before Fred muttered disdainfully, ¡°Malfoy and his cronies¡ªalways looking for trouble.¡± Harry nodded in agreement, clutching the book From Bloodlines to Curses tightly. Once he mastered some of the spells in it, he planned to ensure Malfoy apologized to every Gryffindor for an entire day. Maybe then Malfoy would think twice about causing trouble. However, as Harry turned back to the group, he noticed something odd about Fred. He was standing in a strange posture, favoring his right leg while his left hovered slightly off the ground. Fred¡¯s face bore a small bruise, adding a comical touch to his otherwise pained expression. ¡°What happened to you?¡± Ron asked, frowning. ¡°You were fine when we left the common room this morning.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get me started,¡± Fred groaned. ¡°I miscounted the vanishing steps by the Great Hall, stepped wrong, and slipped on a puddle. Lost my balance and went tumbling down the stairs¡­¡± As he spoke, Fred winced and sucked in a sharp breath. ¡°Merlin¡¯s beard, that smarts! Hopefully Madam Pomfrey can fix me up before class.¡± Ron squinted at him. ¡°Wait, weren¡¯t you in the hospital wing yesterday? I think I saw you¡­ and the day before that too.¡± ¡°Oh, the day before was just a bump on the carriage ride back to school. Yesterday was from a scuffle with Flint and his lot. They tried to take our Quidditch pitch, so I challenged them. Guess what? Their whole team couldn¡¯t beat me!¡± Fred laughed, then winced again. As Fred stumbled, George caught him just in time. ¡°Careful now,¡± George said, steadying him. Harry raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into his expression. ¡°Isn¡¯t this a bit too unlucky?¡± he murmured. ¡°And since when was Fred such a good fighter?¡± Ron wondered aloud. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± George said quickly, helping Fred limp toward the hospital wing. ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ we¡¯ve got our ways.¡± As they walked away, their voices trailed off faintly: ¡°Next time, don¡¯t overdo it. I told you there¡¯d be side effects¡­¡± ¡°Relax! It¡¯s not that bad. If it gets worse, we¡¯ll talk to Professor Victor about toning it down¡­¡± Harry and Ron exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing. ¡°Something¡¯s not right,¡± Ron said firmly. Meanwhile, Malfoy had retreated to the dungeons near the Potions classroom, his mood as dark as the corridor around him. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 45: Malfoy’s Prophecy
The Potions classroom, like the Slytherin common room, was located in the dungeons of Hogwarts Castle. Due to its proximity to the Black Lake, the area was colder and damper than the upper levels of the castle. Adding to the eerie atmosphere, the classroom was sparsely lit with candles, perfectly embodying Muggle fantasies of what a dark wizard''s lair might look like. When Malfoy pushed open the door to the Potions classroom, his eyes were immediately drawn to the shelves filled with jars containing various animal organs. The sight made him flinch slightly. Still, he didn¡¯t retreat. Draco Malfoy took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and approached the inner door of the Potions classroom. Just as he raised his hand to knock, he caught faint snippets of conversation coming from inside. ¡°... How many flowers do you need? I can¡¯t sell you all of them. Some need to stay in the house for landscaping,¡± a low, menacing voice said. ¡°Fifteen for now. I¡¯ll offer you an Obscurial in return¡ªsomething you might find interesting,¡± came another voice. This one Malfoy immediately recognized as Snape¡¯s. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the first voice inquired. ¡°A phenomenon born from suppressing magical abilities from a young age. If you¡¯re interested in studying the soul and magic, it¡¯s a prime subject. I happen to have a source to acquire one, though its value far exceeds these flowers. You¡¯d have to...¡± Malfoy listened intently for a moment but could no longer hear anything further. After a brief pause to collect his thoughts, he surmised that Snape was engaged in some sort of transaction. Hesitating only briefly, he knocked on the door. Knock, knock, knock. ¡°... Come in.¡± The cold, slick voice of Snape called out from within. When Malfoy pushed the door open and stepped inside, he wasn¡¯t surprised to find someone else in the room. It was the Divination professor he hadn¡¯t had a class with yet¡ªVictor. In his hand, Victor held a glowing blue flower, its scent permeating the room with an intoxicating freshness. ¡°Draco, what brings you here?¡± Snape finally turned his attention to Draco. His tone was impatient but less harsh than usual. After all, Draco was one of his own Slytherins. Draco did his best to ignore Victor¡¯s unsettling presence and began complaining to Snape: ¡°Professor, Harry Potter from Gryffindor has been unfairly allowed onto their Quidditch team and even received a broomstick¡ªa Nimbus 2000! He¡¯s just a first-year! This is completely unfair!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve told you before,¡± Snape interrupted icily. ¡°Address me as ¡®Professor¡¯ when we¡¯re in my office.¡± ¡°... Sorry, Professor.¡± Snape¡¯s expression softened slightly after the apology, but his tone remained cutting.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°I¡¯ve already heard about Potter¡¯s situation. It seems Minerva has pinned her hopes on our so-called savior. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t have a comparable excuse to make an exception for you.¡± ¡°I can do everything Potter can!¡± Draco protested. ¡°All he did was dive down and catch a ball. I can do that too¡ª¡± ¡°And break your neck? Shall we then prepare for your mother to storm the school in a fit of rage?¡± Snape sneered coldly. He was all too aware of Draco¡¯s actual flying skills. Just last week, passing by the Slytherin table, he¡¯d overheard Draco boasting about his broomstick adventures as a child, tales that always concluded with him narrowly escaping a Muggle helicopter. Whether these stories were true or not, Snape knew one thing: If Draco attempted Potter¡¯s kind of Quidditch stunts, even if he survived unscathed, Narcissa Malfoy would surely descend upon Hogwarts the next day, demanding answers as to why her son was risking his life. Snape flatly rejected Draco¡¯s request, throwing in a few cutting remarks about his recent behavior for good measure. Victor, observing the exchange from the sidelines, raised an eyebrow. He hadn¡¯t expected Snape to have friends. He¡¯d assumed Snape, like most witches and wizards he¡¯d known in the past, was the solitary type. Victor studied Malfoy for a moment before speaking to Snape: ¡°What about him?¡± ¡°What?¡± Snape asked, caught off guard. ¡°A prophecy. I can make one for him. His future is intertwined with yours...¡± Victor mentioned the same topic Draco had overheard earlier. ¡°It would balance the trade perfectly.¡± ¡°I thought I could choose the subject of the prophecy I receive,¡± Snape countered. ¡°That¡¯s wishful thinking, Severus. Prophecies aren¡¯t so precise,¡± Victor replied matter-of-factly, earning a skeptical glance from Snape¡ªafter all, Victor¡¯s prophecy for Trelawney had been exceptionally detailed. Victor ignored the look. Their earlier deal involved nightshade flowers with significant magical properties, rumored to enhance the potency of certain poisons. Victor, initially uninterested in a transaction purely involving money, became intrigued when Snape mentioned the Obscurial. Naturally, he didn¡¯t mind ¡°going the extra mile¡± for something so rare. Meanwhile, Draco, still confused by the turn of events, warily glanced at Victor before turning back to Snape. ¡°What prophecy? Will it say I¡¯m better than Potter? That doesn¡¯t need a prophecy¡ªPotter¡¯s a fool standing with the wrong people¡ª¡± ¡°The truth may be quite the opposite, Mr. Malfoy,¡± Victor said indifferently. ¡°What?¡± Draco froze. If Potter was with the wrong people, and the opposite was true... Did that mean Potter was in the right, and he was in the wrong? Snape seemed hesitant, but Victor had already stood up. He reached out a hand toward Draco, who instinctively stepped back. The next moment, Victor opened his hand, and a swirl of smoke appeared in his palm. The smoke carried crimson sparks, spreading rapidly throughout the room and forming a glowing circle. Before Snape could demand an explanation, the smoke began to emit sounds resembling distant thunder. In its center, vague images started to form¡ª A dark hall, its vintage decor barely visible, occupied by shadowy figures seated within. ¡°The time for decision has come.¡± ¡°He¡¯s just a child!¡± another voice roared. ¡°How can he possibly complete such a task?¡± ¡°A child? Once our master commands it, he ceases to be a child and becomes a tool. If he fails, he is worthless¡ªthis world has no need for the weak.¡± ¡°Let me do it! I can fulfill the order. Don¡¯t send this¡ªthis child on such a dangerous mission! He¡¯s my son¡ªmy only¡ª¡± The argument grew more intense. The shadows in the smoke writhed, like caged beasts. Just as the chaos reached its peak, a sharp, icy voice cut through everything: ¡°Enough.¡± At the sound of that voice, Draco shivered involuntarily. The voice, calm and deliberate, said: ¡°The Malfoy child... If he is still a child, that is Lucius¡¯s failure, not mine.¡± ¡°He must go and bring me Dumbledore¡¯s life¡ªthis is not about capability but loyalty. Should he fail, the Malfoy family¡¯s honor will be buried with him...¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough! What is this?!¡± Snape abruptly stood, his face pale and his hand clutching his arm as though in pain. As he rose, the smoke dissipated entirely. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 46: Struggle The dimly lit Potions office was cloaked in an oppressive atmosphere. Snape''s expression was as grim as if he were about to lash out. Surrounded by jars filled with animal innards, he appeared even more intimidating, his tightly clenched jaw amplifying the tension in the room. The sheer weight of the prophecy¡¯s implications had utterly transformed his demeanor. ¡°What is this supposed to mean?!¡± He asked again, suppressing his emotions, though his voice carried the undertone of a volcano on the verge of eruption. Unfortunately for him, Victor, the one being interrogated, remained as unflappable as ever. He leisurely waved his hand, dispersing the lingering mist in the air. Only then did he speak, his words lazily carried across the flickering candlelight on Snape¡¯s desk: ¡°It¡¯s the prophecy you asked for, of course.¡± ¡°Utter nonsense!¡± ¡°Do you even realize what you¡¯re saying? Bellatrix couldn¡¯t possibly escape Azkaban! And that assassination attempt is just¡ª¡± Victor cut him off with a dismissive shake of his head. ¡°The prophecy is as it is, Severus. I merely conveyed the vision I foresaw without altering any details. Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you.¡± ¡°If you think I could fabricate such a detailed collection of voices, figures, and events out of thin air, you¡¯re welcome to entertain that idea. But you requested a prophecy, and I¡¯ve delivered one.¡± Snape¡¯s face alternated between pale and flushed as if wrestling with a torrent of thoughts. He stood abruptly, paced a few steps, and then sank back into his chair. After a long pause, he rasped, ¡°You haven¡¯t been to Malfoy Manor? Or stolen someone¡¯s Pensieve?¡± ¡°Pensieve? What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°... The dark mist showed a place¡ªMalfoy Manor¡¯s dining room. If your prophecy is true, it implies that¡­ damn it.¡± Snape¡¯s face darkened further. He instinctively touched his forearm, then quickly withdrew his hand. If someone had rolled up his left sleeve at that moment, they would have noticed a peculiar tattoo¡ªa skull with a serpent emerging from its mouth. Its edges were faintly red, though the color had already begun to fade. The burning sensation had been brief, but it was undeniably real. The Dark Mark was Voldemort¡¯s branding for his Death Eaters. As one of them, Snape knew that when the mark burned, it signaled the Dark Lord summoning his followers. The mark only turned black and visible when the Dark Lord was nearby. And yet, the mark had manifested in response to the prophecy. This could mean one of two things: either Voldemort had returned, or Victor¡¯s vision was closely tied to the Dark Lord. Neither possibility was easy for Snape to stomach. This was precisely why Snape struggled to accept the prophecy¡ªif the voice in the mist truly belonged to the Dark Lord, it meant his resurrection was inevitable, just a matter of time. The Death Eaters would reunite, Bellatrix would be broken out of Azkaban, and everything Snape had been working toward for the past decade would be rendered futile.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. To make matters worse, the prophecy foretold Voldemort assigning Draco Malfoy the task of assassinating Dumbledore. The absurdity lay in the obvious¡ªDraco had no chance of succeeding. But therein also lay the logic. Precisely because Draco would fail, Voldemort could use it as an excuse to punish the Malfoy family, who had distanced themselves from the Death Eaters. The intricate dynamics left Snape doubting that Victor had fabricated the vision, no matter how much he wished that were the case. ¡­So what was he supposed to do? If both the Malfoys and Dumbledore were to meet such grim fates, it seemed the situation had already spiraled beyond salvation. Under the dim candlelight, Snape¡¯s expression was inscrutable. ¡°This is impossible,¡± he murmured to himself, repeating the words as if trying to convince himself. ¡°Prophecies can¡¯t be this¡­ precise.¡± Nearby, Draco Malfoy¡¯s face was equally ashen. He, too, had seen something in the mist¡ªhis mother, his home, and himself in the background. After a long silence, he stubbornly muttered, ¡°Father said Divination at school is all nonsense.¡± Victor shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Think what you want. But remember, Severus, my prophecies have never been wrong.¡± Turning to Draco, Victor added, ¡°And as for you¡ª¡± He patted Draco¡¯s shoulder casually, causing the boy to flinch. ¡°Why the long face?¡± ¡°... Huh?¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be thrilled?¡± Victor¡¯s tone was genuinely puzzled. ¡°Ah, the glory of pureblood lineage! You¡¯ve been entrusted with a significant task by a powerful wizard¡ªsurely, this is what you¡¯ve always wanted?¡± Draco slowly lifted his head, his pale face filled with disbelief as he stared at Victor. It was as if he couldn¡¯t fathom someone uttering such words. Victor looked back with genuine curiosity, his confusion unfeigned. After all, he¡¯d seen Draco sneer at others countless times in the Great Hall, always belittling them for being poor or harping on about pureblood pride. Even someone like Victor, who barely understood the intricacies of British wizarding society, could now list the family backgrounds of a few students, thanks to Draco¡¯s frequent tirades. Wasn¡¯t this Draco¡¯s dream? Wasn¡¯t this the moment where he should declare, ¡°Mother doesn¡¯t trust me, but I¡¯ll prove myself for the cause!¡± Snape stood abruptly, his expression dark as he brushed Victor¡¯s hand off Draco¡¯s shoulder and pulled the trembling boy away. ¡°That¡¯s enough. You¡¯ve delivered your prophecy. The rest is our concern. Stop terrifying my students.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get you your Obscurus later.¡± ¡°By next week.¡± ¡°That¡¯s nearly impossible¡ª¡± Snape¡¯s expression twisted. ¡°Do you have any idea how rare they are? I¡¯d wager there aren¡¯t three in the entire world.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Victor replied coolly, his gaze sharp. ¡°If you don¡¯t deliver, I¡¯ll just take something else from you.¡± Snape clicked his tongue irritably, grabbed a quill, scribbled something on a scrap of parchment, and handed it to Victor. ¡°This is the contact information for someone who has an Obscurus. His name is Monton, a shady fellow. I don¡¯t know how he got his hands on it, but I¡¯ll try to have him bring it to Knockturn Alley this week. If he doesn¡¯t, you can sort it out with him yourself. Save yourself the suspicion that I¡¯m stalling.¡± ¡°Now, if you¡¯ve no other business¡­ leave.¡± Snape was usually willing to converse with Victor, his ¡°herb supplier,¡± but now he couldn¡¯t wait to see him gone. Victor left without complaint. As the door to the Potions office shut, Draco remained standing in a daze, his mother¡¯s desperate and panicked voice echoing in his mind. She had never shown such vulnerability before. She had always been poised and composed, embodying the grace of a pureblood aristocrat. It was only after seeing the vision in the mist that Draco realized even his mother could be driven to despair. And the cause of her desperation was him. Someone had assigned him an impossible task, one that could very well cost him his life. Reflecting on his education and Dumbledore¡¯s infamous enemies, Draco naturally deduced who that person was, and the thought made him tremble uncontrollably. In his haze, Draco finally understood one thing¡ªhe was no different from any other pawn in the eyes of that man. Perhaps he was even less. It was only then that Snape noticed him. After a moment of silence, Snape retrieved a small vial of green potion from a high shelf and handed it to Draco. ¡°Drink this,¡± he ordered coldly. ¡°W-What is it?¡± ¡°A Calming Draught,¡± Snape replied impatiently. ¡°Drink it, leave, and write to your father about this. The rest will be handled by the two of us.¡± At the mention of his father, some of the terror faded from Draco¡¯s expression. Hesitating, he finally accepted the ominous-looking potion. Tilting his head back, he drained it in one gulp. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 47: Peeves’ Observations After stepping out of Snape¡¯s office, Victor¡¯s mood remained unaffected by the prophecy they had just discussed¡ªstill relaxed and at ease, a stark contrast to the other two who were far more entangled with the prophecy. After all, it wasn¡¯t his doom being foretold. The biggest difference between Victor and Snape, though, was that Victor had no idea whose shrill voice had spoken the prophecy. From Snape and Draco¡¯s reactions, he could guess it was likely the legendary Dark Lord, with mentions of pureblood pride and such, but beyond that, he wasn¡¯t particularly informed. Victor¡¯s thoughts were more along the lines of: Oh, so that Dark Lord isn¡¯t dead yet¡­ What¡¯s the big deal? In his fairytale-like world, things were much more perilous. Rivers could harbor demons sealed for millennia, each bottle uncorked was like playing the lottery¡ªwith the grand prize being imminent mortal peril. Goblins, witches, dragons who could talk and abduct princesses¡ªthere were at least a dozen figures comparable to Voldemort in their notoriety and accomplishments. Even the ordinary people of his world would likely respond with: "Another Dark Lord? Are you sure it¡¯s not just a regular demon king? Oh, it¡¯s not? That¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll just move. Heard the kingdom next door is wizard-protected, sounds safer." It was as simple as that. Thus, Victor didn¡¯t give the matter much thought. He figured he¡¯d deal with the Dark Lord when the time came. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± A voice suddenly called from behind him, carrying a distant, hazy tone but laced with undeniable glee at someone else¡¯s misfortune. Victor turned to see a peculiar-looking ghost. It resembled a tiny dwarf, with a pair of mischievous eyes and a wide mouth. It floated mid-air, waving its arms and legs with a devilish grin as it stared at Victor. Victor observed the ghost for a moment, then asked in surprise: ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were dwarves in the magical world. Where did you live before you died?¡± ¡°...?¡± The diminutive ghost froze briefly, then its face twisted into an expression of rage. ¡°I¡¯m Peeves the Poltergeist, not a dwarf! Peeves has always been at Hogwarts¡ªthe master of mischief!¡± Victor looked at him blankly for a moment, then gave a disinterested ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Boring.¡± He sounded regretful. Had it been an actual dwarf, his magical life would have truly been complete¡ªbecause dwarves loved drinking. All he¡¯d need to do was bring some wine and drink the night away with them, and they¡¯d sign a five-hundred-year labor contract without hesitation. Not to mention, dwarves were walking treasures. Their beards, cultivated over decades, were the best fertilizer for magical herbs. Their bodies brimmed with magical energy, and apart from their livers, almost every part could be put to good use¡­Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. But hearing that Peeves wasn¡¯t a dwarf instantly deflated Victor¡¯s interest. For Peeves, however, this indifference was the ultimate insult. He zoomed in front of Victor, his beady black eyes glaring menacingly. ¡°Peeves overheard you lot whispering about prophecies¡ªoh! The awakening of fear! Oh! Shadows of the future!¡± He mimicked their earlier conversation in a dramatic singsong tone, gesturing wildly before leaning in close to Victor¡¯s face with a sly chuckle. ¡°You scared that little Slytherin boy! He¡¯s terrified. He won¡¯t do it. He¡¯s changing¡ªpoor little Draco¡¯s going to behave now. You¡¯re taking all the fun out of it for Peeves!¡± Victor frowned in confusion. ¡°Are you saying Malfoy¡¯s so scared of me that he won¡¯t even bother others anymore? That¡¯s impossible.¡± Peeves paused mid-air, then replied cryptically, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand people~¡± He twirled in the air, letting out another gleeful cackle. Victor couldn¡¯t be bothered to respond. He didn¡¯t even feel annoyed¡ªhe simply waved Peeves off. ¡°Go away. We¡¯ve got nothing to talk about.¡± ¡°Go? Impossible! I¡¯m going to torment you, Bat Junior!¡± Peeves laughed again. ¡°Did you know? That dull ghost, the Bloody Baron, has been so busy lately¡ªrunning east and west across the castle, keeping an eye on someone. He doesn¡¯t have time for me anymore!¡± ¡°So with the Baron gone, the castle belongs to Peeves now!¡± ¡°Hoo hoo hoo hoo¡­¡± ¡°But if you bow to me, I might make you Peeves¡¯ second-in-command and let you help me prank old McGonagall¡­ Since we¡¯re so alike,¡± Peeves teased with a triumphant grin. Victor paused mid-step. ¡°We¡¯re alike?¡± Peeves, still floating and grinning, waved his hand, making nearby candles float as well. ¡°Of course. You, me¡ªwe¡¯re the same.¡± ¡°Ah, haven¡¯t told anyone yet, have you? Is it some big secret? Oh! Then I¡¯ll have to think of a spectacular way to reveal it. Those little school kids would love to know!¡± He spun in the air, gleefully planning aloud. Victor, however, suddenly pulled a coin from his pocket and held it up. ¡°Let me bribe you, then,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± Peeves glanced at the coin. ¡°A plain coin? You think that¡¯s enough to bribe the great Peeves?¡± ¡°Oh, let me see what trick you¡¯re playing!¡± Stretching his ghostly hand toward the coin, Peeves grabbed it¡ªonly for an immense suction force to emanate from the coin, instantly pulling him in! Peeves struggled, but it was futile. He was dragged into the coin without resistance. ¡°AAAAH!¡± ¡°Clink.¡± ¡°Ding ding ding¡­¡± The coin spun on the floor before coming to a halt. Now, the corridor was silent save for Victor¡¯s presence. A few seconds later, Victor bent down, picked up the coin, and muttered disdainfully, ¡°You? Like me?¡± Shaking his head, he glanced at the cursed coin containing Peeves before pocketing it. Dealing with Peeves was simple¡ªset up a ghost-catching spell in an empty classroom, lock the door, and tell Peeves not to open it¡­ Within thirty minutes, he¡¯d walk right into the trap. Before storing the coin, Victor gave it a final glance, thinking, Let¡¯s put this in the bottle with that grudge-bearing fellow against King Solomon. After all these years, he must be bored enough to enjoy some company. His footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, gradually fading away. Elsewhere, Malfoy stumbled out of the Potions classroom, one hand pressed to his forehead. His eyes were unfocused, and his steps were shaky. As they exited, a faint ¡°ding¡± sound came from afar, but neither he nor Snape paid it any mind. ¡°My head feels dizzy, Professor,¡± Draco Malfoy said, leaning against a wall and rubbing his temples, his vision blurred. ¡°That¡¯s normal. It¡¯ll pass,¡± Snape said coldly. ¡°You¡¯re allergic to the potion¡ªprobably due to the Flobberworm extract. Avoid live worms in the future.¡± ¡°I have matters to attend to with the Headmaster. Return to the common room on your own.¡± Without waiting, Snape strode off, leaving Malfoy massaging his temples. What¡­ what had he gone in there for again? Oh. He was supposed to confront Potter. Because Potter got into the Quidditch team, and he hadn¡¯t, despite being a pure-blooded noble¡­ As the word pure-blood crossed his mind, Malfoy shuddered inexplicably. His usual fervor for bloodline pride waned, and even the thought of bothering Harry felt unappealing. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 48: The Fisherman and the Demon When Victor returned to the North Tower, the sky was already tinged with dusk. He placed the coin containing the mischievous spirit on the empty table and settled into his office chair. As the coin clinked against the surface of the table, it emitted a crisp ringing sound. If one looked closely, they would notice one side of the coin bore the design of a six-pointed star, while the other featured a grotesque skull, exuding an eerie aura. As the coin spun and tumbled, the skull¡¯s eyes occasionally flickered with a grayish gleam that disappeared in an instant, leaving one wondering if it had been an illusion. Yet in this room, there were no creatures capable of inducing such hallucinations. The oil painting on the wall now depicted only a towering spire; the once-thriving rapunzel plants within were nowhere to be seen. A teapot rested motionlessly in the corner of the table, and the full-length mirror in the corner stood spotless, as though it reflected nothing at all. ¡°Bring me the bottle.¡± Victor snapped his fingers at the teapot perched on the table''s edge. The teapot shuddered slightly, then clumsily began to creep across Victor¡¯s cluttered desk. It accidentally tripped over a quill, tumbling headfirst into a pile of books and parchment, landing with a muffled plop. Seemingly embarrassed, the teapot buried itself in the pile of books, disappearing momentarily from sight before wriggling free to resume its search. Moments later, it presented a pitch-black bottle. The bottle, though made of glass, had weathered the passage of time, appearing yellowed and aged. Its contents were obscured from view. When Victor picked it up, he noticed the top bore the same six-pointed star inscribed with runes¡ªa mark associated with King Solomon. In both worlds, King Solomon was recorded as a preeminent magician. Victor had been astonished to find that Solomon existed in this realm as well. Accounts in The History of Ancient Magic described Solomon as a pioneer in researching dark magical beings and a key contributor to the development of guardian spells¡ªa luminary among ancient mages. Anyone familiar with Arabic might recognize an inscription near the bottle¡¯s stopper: ¡°Do Not Touch.¡± Yet the next moment, Victor ignored the warning entirely, casually pulling the stopper free. A billowing black mist surged forth from the bottle, causing the white flames in the room¡¯s fireplace to flicker violently. The chandelier overhead swayed as though making way for the tangible darkness. Within the mist, four crimson eyes gleamed, accompanied by a distorted, monstrous face. It was a demon from Arabic folklore. Initially disoriented after its release, it laughed hoarsely at the ceiling:Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°How long has it been?¡± ¡°Ah, when King Solomon sealed me in this bottle, I swore that if anyone freed me, I would grant them wealth, glory, and fulfill their every desire. But a hundred years passed, and no one came. So I vowed instead to bestow unimaginable riches upon my savior. Then two hundred years passed, and still no one appeared. At that point, I swore to kill whoever released me but would allow them to choose the manner of their death.¡± ¡°And now, how will you¡ª¡± The demon¡¯s raspy voice halted abruptly when it spotted Victor. Its four eyes widened slightly. ¡°...Why is it you again?¡± ¡°It¡¯s me. Are you disappointed?¡± ¡°Disappointed? How could I not be?¡± The demon¡¯s crimson eyes glared at Victor. ¡°I¡¯m not even asking you to release me anymore. Just throw me back into the lake¡ªbut you couldn¡¯t even do that?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡± Victor waved dismissively. ¡°You¡¯ve only been here three years. A few more won¡¯t make much difference.¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy for you to say,¡± the demon growled through gritted teeth. ¡°You¡¯re not the one trapped in a bottle.¡± ¡°Three years, then another three. By the time I get another chance to escape, my magic will likely be worn down completely. At that point, I won¡¯t even be able to defeat an ordinary fisherman. How am I supposed to regain my power?¡± ¡°And what would you do with that power?¡± ¡°Conquer, of course¡ªdamn it, you¡¯re trying to trick me into talking!¡± ¡°As if your intentions aren¡¯t obvious.¡± ¡°Enough. I didn¡¯t summon you for idle chatter.¡± Victor picked up the coin from the table, holding it before the demon¡¯s four eyes. ¡°You know what this is, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Solomon¡¯s cursed coin?¡± The demon¡¯s misty form sank slightly, bringing its eyes level with the coin. ¡°Ah, but there¡¯s more to it¡­ Something¡¯s been trapped inside, hasn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Another fool who sought Solomon¡¯s treasure, no doubt. They always assume a sorcerer like Solomon wouldn¡¯t bother protecting his riches. In truth, they¡¯re the real fools. Touch something that doesn¡¯t belong to you, and¡ªpoof¡ªyou¡¯re trapped in a coin forever.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t I ever encounter such dimwits?¡± ¡°...Says the demon who was tricked into a bottle by a fisherman.¡± Victor¡¯s words made the demon¡¯s mist churn uncomfortably, punctuated by nonsensical growls of protest. The demon grumbled about its supposed brilliance, the fisherman¡¯s treachery, and being too disoriented after centuries of imprisonment. But under Victor¡¯s steady gaze, the protests dwindled to silence. Finally, the demon shifted topics in frustration: ¡°Fine! Just tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s in the coin?¡± ¡°A ghost.¡± ¡°A ghost?¡± ¡°Yes. A ghost unique to this region. You might not have noticed, but we¡¯re in a new land now. The magic here is quite different from what we¡¯re used to, producing fascinating creatures like this one.¡± ¡°They¡¯re former wizards, reduced to remnants of obsession and memory, nothing more. But the one in this coin seems¡­ unusual.¡± Victor shook the coin lightly, releasing a faint gray hue before setting it down. ¡°It appears to be connected to this castle. If you can beat it into submission and make it confess the truth, I¡¯ll agree to toss you back into your sea. Feel free to vent some personal grievances while you¡¯re at it.¡± ¡°Connected to the castle¡­?¡± The demon¡¯s mist drifted through the room, seemingly deep in thought. In mere moments, the air became thick with the stench of sulfur, intensifying until it was almost tangible. After several seconds, the demon grinned wickedly. ¡°I see now.¡± ¡°I understand. You still believe in that rumor...¡± Its voice was confident, dripping with malice. ¡°Oh?¡± Victor arched an eyebrow lazily. But the demon¡¯s four eyes remained fixed on him. ¡°Yes... I remember...¡± ¡°The rumor speaks of an alchemical method to perfect the soul, elevating it beyond the mundane world,¡± the demon hissed. ¡°Even in Solomon¡¯s domain, such whispers were known.¡± ¡°One crucial step in this alchemy involves gathering three elements symbolizing the complete cycle of reincarnation: the past, the present, and the future.¡± ¡°This ghost sounds like the perfect candidate for the past, my friend.¡± The demon¡¯s voice, brimming with sinister delight, reverberated through the office as it hovered menacingly. ¡°In the end, after so many merfolk, wizards, and giants perished chasing it, do you wish to join them?¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 49: The Devil and Alchemy
In the dimly lit office, a devil hovered midair, its smoke-like form spreading out to engulf the entire wooden ceiling. If anyone were to walk in at this moment, they''d undoubtedly let out a terrified scream, believing they had encountered the mythical Cambion. However, they''d quickly realize they were mistaken. This devil, as it turns out, was far less dangerous than a Cambion. Victor had long suspected that when King Solomon sealed this devil, he must have also managed to strip it of its wits. Unfortunately, the devil¡¯s current behavior suggested otherwise¡ªit seemed to retain its full memory from before being sealed, as evidenced by its mention of "soul alchemy." In the world of fairy tales, many beings yearned to transcend their existence and achieve an immortal soul. While no one had ever seen what a truly perfect, immortal soul looked like, one famous figure who pursued this goal was Ariel, the mermaid princess from the Stormy Seas of the West. To gain a true soul, she had painfully exchanged her voice for legs in a deal with Ursula, the sea witch, and lived among humans. Ursula had also stipulated that if Ariel failed to receive a true love¡¯s kiss within three days, she would turn into lifeless sea foam at sunrise, vanishing into the waves. Sadly, that was indeed her fate. Yet, rumors persisted that at the moment Ariel dissolved into foam, she succeeded in gaining an immortal soul. Inspired by this, countless wizards sought alternative methods¡ª(surely no one would risk their life to turn themselves into foam, right?)¡ªand eventually devised a unique form of alchemy. This was the very technique the devil was now referring to. Initially, the Church had declared this alchemy the highest taboo. However, the ban didn¡¯t last long. The Church soon discovered that this alchemy was almost as futile as turning oneself into foam. Ten heretics might begin their research, but all that would be left were ten gravestones. ¡°Why would you think I¡¯d dabble in something like that? The risk is far too high,¡± Victor said dismissively, tapping his finger on the table. ¡°Everything seeks to ascend,¡± the devil replied with a grin that stretched across its nonexistent face. ¡°As long as there¡¯s room for growth, no one will resist the temptation... Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t be striving to shed that utterly inhuman soul of yours, and I wouldn¡¯t have betrayed King Solomon, only to end up trapped in this bottle.¡± ¡°...Trapped?¡± Victor paused for a moment. No, no, no. Your presence in that bottle was a certainty. His tone left no room for debate¡ªas if to say that given the devil¡¯s level, the idea of it defeating King Solomon was utterly preposterous.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The devil¡¯s voice grew slightly more indignant. ¡°You should watch your words carefully. My powers haven¡¯t faded entirely, and as the one who released me after 303 years, you¡¯re supposed to be my first victim¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, spare me. You say that to everyone you meet,¡± Victor interrupted coldly. ¡°I looked up the coastal church records. The last time you were released, you said: ¡®I promise to grant riches to whoever frees me. But a hundred years passed, and no one came. Another fifty years later, I swore to kill anyone who released me.¡¯¡± The same script, only with the time adjusted. Victor¡¯s expression was utterly indifferent. Its credibility? Zero. He waved dismissively and tossed a coin from the table toward the devil, saying perfunctorily, ¡°Whether or not I study that alchemy is my own business. Even if I wanted to, gathering the materials would take ages. Past, present, and future¡ªthe flesh representing all three is indispensable. And as it stands, I don¡¯t have a single one.¡± ¡°I only called you out for one thing¡ªto study the soul embedded in this coin. After all, the last time we met, you promised that if I agreed to seal you back in, you¡¯d do me this favor.¡± The devil let out a chuckle, its smoky body shifting abruptly toward the door. As it lunged, it sneered, ¡°But even King Solomon knew¡ªI never keep my promises!¡± Its form surged like black mist, slipping through the cracks of the door and attempting to breach the fireplace-sealed entrance with magical force. It wanted to escape. With its frantic movement, everything in the room began to tremble. The desk quaked violently, flames flickered in their lamps, and books tumbled from the shelves. Yet Victor showed no surprise. Before the devil had even finished its first sentence, Victor had already tossed the coin into the bottle, picked up his wand, and uttered a spell he¡¯d recently learned during his summer studies. ¡°Engorgio.¡± The bottle by his side began to expand wildly, growing almost as tall as Victor himself. Then, with a quick ¡°Wingardium Leviosa,¡± it floated into the air. Simultaneously, the bottle¡¯s cork, engraved with King Solomon¡¯s seal, underwent the same transformation. One on the left, one on the right, they enclosed the mass of black mist. The next moment, it was as though they were stuffing a pancake¡ªthe devil¡¯s smoky form was forcibly crammed back into the bottle. Pop! To avoid being severed by the cork, the devil hastily transformed into a small yellow bird and darted fully into the bottle. Once it was inside, Victor calmly added, ¡°Reducio.¡± ¡°Humph.¡± The bottle returned to its original size with a couple of faint clinks as it settled back onto the desk. The devil was sealed once more. Victor observed the bottle for a moment. Inside, the black mist roiled angrily, clearly dissatisfied. Occasionally, faint whispers emanated from within: ¡°...You promised...¡± Victor¡¯s pale fingers picked up the bottle, giving it a gentle shake to ensure it was sealed tight. He brought it a few inches from his hollow eyes and said calmly, ¡°As everyone knows, I never keep promises either.¡± He placed the bottle back into the drawer beneath his desk. Nearby, a teapot seemed to stomp its feet in frustration. The devil¡¯s earlier commotion had left the room in disarray, with dust falling from the ceiling. The teapot, seemingly fastidious by nature, furiously shook its ceramic body before grabbing a small cloth and beginning to scrub everything in sight. With the teapot cleaning up, Victor turned his attention back to the drawer where the devil had disappeared, deep in thought. Though the devil had been dealt with, it wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. Alchemy was indeed something Victor sought to accomplish¡ªone of the reasons he had come to this world. However, the materials required for that alchemy were extensive, and the risks immense. He was already considering someone to take on the task for him. And it seemed that candidate would soon emerge. All he needed was a bit more observation. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 50: The Fifth-Year Curriculum Time passed swiftly amidst Victor¡¯s quiet observations of the students and professors. Apart from Professor McGonagall beginning to wonder why Peeves had been absent for so long, Professor Dumbledore giving Victor a few hesitant looks as if he had something to say, and Snape casually mentioning, ¡°The Malfoy family seems to want a word with you,¡± everything else was perfectly ordinary. Victor was relatively content with his current, laissez-faire life. After all, there were no church officials or priests knocking on his door to cause trouble, nor were there any kingdom wars disrupting his routine and forcing him to return to the mage''s tower only to find it vanished. October As Halloween approached, the air in the school turned colder. The windproof charms on their cloaks worked tirelessly, sparing the wizards from having to dress like puffed-up spheres before stepping outside. It was a Friday evening, and the last Divination class of the week was in progress. The golden sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the small clouds of mist visible with every breath the students exhaled. This time, the fifth-years were the ones in class. Compared to other grades, they were the most troublesome. Third-years could be filtered out through introductory divination tests, and sixth- and seventh-years could be taught more casually. Fifth-years, however, had to face the O.W.L.s, making them the group Victor had to handle with particular care. This also meant that even if they mastered the art of true prophecy, they¡¯d still be unlikely to score full marks on the exam¡ªbecause true Divination seldom yielded precise answers. Thus, Victor prepared to focus solely on exam-oriented teaching. In the classroom, every student sat obediently at their round tables, their heads bowed as they fervently took notes on parchment. Their quills moved rapidly, while their ears were attuned to Victor¡¯s slow, deliberate voice: ¡°¡­ As I mentioned during our first class, I do not agree with the content of the O.W.L.s exams at all. Even if you master these materials, it will not advance your skills in the slightest, as you won¡¯t truly be able to see the visions.¡± ¡°So, to merely get through this utterly meaningless exam, this year I will teach you only one thing¡ª¡± ¡°Cheating.¡± The room rustled. Hearing this word, the students, who had already been scribbling furiously, became even more animated, filling the classroom with the soft scratching sounds of quills. Victor, however, had no idea what there was to write down. Amidst the flurry of note-taking, a burly Gryffindor boy raised his hand high. ¡°Go ahead, Mr. Wood.¡± ¡°Professor, I¡¯ve heard that cheating on the O.W.L.s is against the Wizards'' Law and that serious offenders could even be sent to Azkaban,¡± Wood said, his expression tinged with confusion. ¡°That is correct,¡± Victor nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see at least some of you have read the Wizards'' Law.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Mr. Wood is absolutely right. According to the law, engaging in plagiarism, smuggling crib notes, or conspiring to cheat during major exams such as the O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s will result in legal repercussions, including suspension, expulsion, or even three days'' detention in Azkaban for severe cases.¡± ¡°Therefore, I strongly advise against any of the aforementioned prohibited actions.¡± The students looked even more puzzled. No crib notes? No copying? Then how could one cheat? Victor evidently sensed their confusion. He paused for a moment before waving his wand in the air, conjuring a line of text: Legal Cheating Methods He turned back to face them. ¡°As the text says,¡± Victor remarked coolly, observing the students¡¯ confused yet intrigued expressions, ¡°aside from low-level cheating methods like crib notes, we can exploit loopholes in the rules to cheat openly and legitimately.¡± ¡°For instance¡ªhow many of you have ever tried using dice to decide answers on a multiple-choice question?¡± Immediately, a flurry of hands shot up, including Wood¡¯s. ¡°Good.¡± Victor nodded, motioning for them to lower their hands. ¡°Clearly, rolling dice during an exam does not violate any rules.¡± ¡°Similarly, other unconventional approaches, such as picking answers by randomly tapping with your quill, relying on gut instinct, or estimating the most likely answer based on the question''s length, are all permissible.¡± ¡°These techniques actually fall under the domain of Divination.¡± ¡°While the last one leans more towards Arithmancy, with proper training, you can significantly increase the accuracy of these methods.¡± The students¡¯ expressions instantly brightened, especially those struggling academically, who suddenly saw a glimmer of hope. Victor, however, abruptly shifted the tone: ¡°So, why do I call this ¡®cheating¡¯? Simple. With rigorous training and a reasonable application of your third eye, your multiple-choice accuracy could reach 100%. And Divination happens to be the only subject without a practical exam.¡± ¡°And if you study the exam questions in advance, you¡¯ll be pleasantly surprised to discover that the entire test contains only one short-answer question worth six points. Even if you leave it completely blank, you could still end up with an ¡®O¡¯ on your report card by year¡¯s end.¡± The students erupted in gasps of amazement, their excitement reminiscent of their third year when Professor McGonagall had transformed into a cat and back again during their Animagus lessons. The tangible wonder of it had provided lasting motivation to learn Transfiguration. It was the same with Divination. Although mastering it wouldn¡¯t grant them the ability to predict the magical world¡¯s future, it would allow them to ace their exams. What was there to hesitate about? Amid their exhilarated faces, Victor leisurely walked back to the front of the room and settled onto the reclining chair left behind by Professor Trelawney, appearing utterly relaxed. With a flick of his wand, the text hovering at the front of the classroom changed once more. It now displayed three familiar lines: "Aip, Paip, Kaire; Silo, Horo, Haire; Zese, Zese, Zekke." When the white text appeared, a student who had been chatting with seventh-years raised a hand to ask: ¡°Professor, aren¡¯t those the incantations for the Pocket Watch Prophecy that seventh-years learn? Don¡¯t they require mandrake leaves? Will we get any too?¡± At his question, a few nearby students exchanged eager glances¡ªthey had tried learning the Pocket Watch Prophecy spell earlier in the year but failed due to the lack of mandrake leaves. Victor swiftly dashed their hopes. ¡°Unfortunately, the school is completely out of mandrake leaves. The Herbology classroom¡¯s mandrakes have all been stripped bald. If I so much as eye them, Professor Sprout might challenge me to a duel.¡± ¡°The good news is, you won¡¯t need them.¡± ¡°Mandrake leaves merely strengthen the connection, serving as a shortcut for seventh-years. But you have an entire year to cultivate the same ability yourselves¡­¡± ¡°And then silently recite this incantation to achieve wandless and non-verbal casting.¡± Suddenly, Victor flashed a smile that sent a chill down the students¡¯ spines. ¡°By the way, do you know when a person¡¯s premonitions are the sharpest?¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 51: A Helpful Golden Hat The rays of the setting sun streamed through the open window of the top-floor attic, casting a warm golden glow over all the students. Yet, with Professor Victor¡¯s eerie expression looming over them, not a single student could feel the sunlight¡¯s warmth. When does intuition feel the strongest? Now, perhaps? A few students nervously swallowed hard, casting anxious glances at the professor. But clearly, there were always those who remained oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, such as Slytherin''s Mr. Flint. Burly and broad-shouldered, Flint was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Unfortunately, he was also the least clever among those who excelled at dirty tricks. His position as captain was owed entirely to his overwhelming strength (and his uncanny ability to knock Gryffindors off their brooms midair). In the brief silence of the classroom, Flint began his usual taunts directed at his eternal rival, Wood, who sat at the same table. ¡°Intuition? You have that? Funny, I remember you swearing Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup every year,¡± Flint sneered, elbowing Wood in the arm. ¡°Don¡¯t get too smug, Flint. This year, victory¡¯s ours,¡± Wood gritted through clenched teeth. ¡°With Potter? He¡¯s just a first-year. You must be dreaming about the House Cup.¡± ¡°Ha! You Slytherins wouldn¡¯t dare play fair for once¡ª¡± ¡°Ahem.¡± A cough interrupted their escalating argument. Both Flint and Wood froze, slowly turning to see Victor standing behind them, wearing a faint but unsettling smile. ¡­Wait, when did he get there? Wood paled, and Flint shot an accusing glare at the classmate beside him, as if blaming them for not warning him. ¡°Flint. Wood. Stand up.¡± ¡°You two can go first,¡± Victor said flatly. ¡°No problem, Professor,¡± Flint boomed confidently. ¡°My intuition¡¯s sharpest when I¡¯m in a fight. So, can I fight Wood?¡± ¡°No.¡± Victor didn¡¯t bother wasting words. Instead, he walked back toward the fireplace under the curious gaze of the students, retrieving a golden, pointed hat. It resembled the Sorting Hat but with more intricate patterns etched into its surface. ¡°Your task is simple. Focus on this hat and recite the incantation we just discussed,¡± Victor explained, placing the hat on the front desk. ¡°Take particular care: the tone of the last section should rise higher than the first two, with emphasis on the final syllable. Otherwise, the hat¡¯s curse might activate, and you¡¯ll end up like the Wicked Witch of the West.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Several students gasped. Wood, hand raised high as always, opened his mouth to question, but Victor preempted him. ¡°Relax,¡± Victor said smoothly. ¡°The curse is harmless for young people like you. You¡¯ll simply need to avoid water for the next week.¡± ¡°And if you do get wet, don¡¯t worry. The only consequence is¡­ temporary hair loss. Your hair will regrow naturally in seven days.¡± ¡°...Hair loss for seven days?¡± Several female students gasped in horror, staring at the hat as though it might leap at them. ¡°Indeed. And no, hair-restoring potions won¡¯t help¡ªpart of the curse¡¯s charm, you see,¡± Victor said with casual detachment. ¡°The curse is harmless for ordinary wizards, but for certain long-lived witches or wizards, it can be deadly.¡± ¡°If misused twice, the curse becomes permanent. In fact, a certain Western Wicked Witch¡¯s century-long reign ended with a single splash of water.¡± (A nod to The Wizard of Oz.) The students perked up at this, though their interest was mild¡ªthey were teenagers, not remotely concerned with centuries-long lifespans. Mostly, they feared hair loss. The girls, in particular, looked like they were preparing for battle as they eyed the hat warily. After a moment of silence, Flint impatiently asked, ¡°Professor, what does this have to do with intuition? Are you saying we¡¯re at our most intuitive when we¡¯re losing hair?¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± Victor motioned for Flint to come forward, which he did with nonchalance. ¡°Begin,¡± Victor instructed. As Flint chanted, Victor explained the connection between the hat and intuition: ¡°Originally, the incantation ¡®Ze Xi Ze Ke¡¯ wasn¡¯t meant to enhance foresight. It was a spell to form a spiritual link with the hat. By tweaking it slightly, I¡¯ve repurposed it for prophetic abilities.¡± ¡°The hat¡¯s original function was to summon flying monkeys who would perform three tasks for you.¡± Just as he said this, the golden hat suddenly let out a loud pop! Out flew five or six strange little monkeys. Each monkey was slightly larger than a palm, with brown fur, bright red faces, and black feathered wings resembling a hawk¡¯s. They cackled loudly, clutching tiny golden forks that glimmered ominously. Immediately, they darted toward Flint, forks aimed squarely at his backside. Flint instinctively raised his wand, but one monkey had already swooped under his cloak, snatching it away and flying to the ceiling. The rest gleefully jabbed their golden forks at Flint¡¯s rear. ¡°ARGH!¡± Flint yelped, clutching his behind and leaping into the air. His face twisted as if his backside were on fire. But nothing had happened¡ªnot even a thread of his robe was out of place. The monkeys laughed uproariously, chasing after Flint with their forks. Flint, panicked, began running around the classroom. The other students exchanged wide-eyed looks as Flint circled the divination room. A few ducked as the monkeys flew past, relieved to find they were only interested in Flint. Somehow, the monkeys even managed to prod Flint out of crashing into classmates, forcing him onto a clear path. And so, Flint began his laps around the room... Only then did Victor leisurely finish his explanation: ¡°¡­Once chosen, these mischievous monkeys will make you run twenty laps while jabbing at you.¡± ¡°They also have illusion magic on their forks. Sometimes, you¡¯ll feel a burning sensation; other times, you¡¯ll hear piercingly enlightening sounds.¡± ¡°So don¡¯t forget to chant correctly while running. If you get it right, you¡¯ll move faster and dodge their forks¡ª¡± Flint screamed again as the monkeys caught up, his face turning purple as he clutched his stomach. Victor paused, raising an eyebrow. ¡­Occasionally, the forks cause phantom bladder pain. He decided it wasn¡¯t worth mentioning. Victor¡¯s gaze drifted before he returned to his chair, calmly ordering the next student to take their turn with the hat. Inside the hat, dozens of flying monkeys awaited, ready to test everyone. Ultimately, intuition varies. Some students are sharpest when called on in class, others during roll call, or even in life-and-death moments. But no matter the circumstance, the flying monkeys could replicate it all. If you feel an overwhelming unease while chanting¡ª It means you¡¯re in for a thoroughly unlucky lesson. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 52: Gryffindors Daily Academic Dramas When the class finally ended, half of the students collapsed to the ground while the other half cowered in corners, trembling. A few students even nearly clung to Victor''s legs, begging him not to make them try again. They didn''t want to end up bald or, worse, humiliated. In this tense atmosphere, the torturous lesson dragged to its end. As soon as the dismissal bell rang, the students nearly burst into tears of relief. "Not so fast," Victor called out, smiling as he signaled his flying monkeys to stop chasing the students. He halted those who were limping away¡ªit wasn¡¯t as though they could run fast anyway. Some had wobbly legs after being forced to run twenty laps and couldn¡¯t even stand properly. Reluctantly, the students looked up at him, fear etched on their faces. "I¡¯ve noticed that a significant number of you dislike this training method," Victor began, his tone cheerful but with a hint of menace. "And some of you, for various reasons, struggle to achieve full marks. So, I¡¯m offering you a second option..." Some students immediately perked up, hope lighting their weary faces. "¡­If you submit a three-foot-long Divination essay before the next class." "And it must include a review of all previous knowledge. After all, you can¡¯t cheat¡ªyour only choice is to memorize everything. But remember, students taking this option must score at least an ''E'' on the next exam." The light in their eyes immediately died. Three feet? That¡¯s a full meter! To escape this mortifying and grueling class, they¡¯d need to write a one-meter essay and score an ''Exceeds Expectations'' in the next test. A few Gryffindors groaned in despair, instantly aligning themselves with the scowling Slytherins. Only the academically inclined students, seeing this as a lifeline, rushed out of the classroom, dragging their exhausted friends along. ¡°Goodbye, Professor!¡± ¡°Goodbye!¡± By evening, the Gryffindor common room was flooded with weary students. Some collapsed onto sofas immediately upon entering, others simply lay flat on the ground, while a few entered mysteriously, hoods pulled low over their heads. This baffled Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were playing wizard chess in the corner. ¡°What happened to all of you?¡± Lee asked, looking up from the mountain of homework he was working through. He turned to the fifth years¡ªand especially to Wood, who was sprawled on the ground, looking lifeless. "Don¡¯t¡­ ask," groaned one fifth-year slumped on a sofa. ¡°I had to run twenty laps... while listening to some mind-numbing music that nearly shook my brain out of my skull!¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. This complaint drew a chorus of equally weak grumbles from others. Wood, lying on the floor, muttered, ¡°You think that¡¯s bad? I got hit with a Shrinking Charm! Those twenty laps felt longer than my entire life¡­¡± Wood¡¯s voice was faint, and he looked ready to pass out. Still, even if he did, it wouldn¡¯t be a big deal¡ªMadam Pomfrey would just give him a vial of Invigoration Draught, and he¡¯d be fine. Thanks to magical potions, wizards¡¯ lives were far more intense¡ªand absurd¡ªthan Muggles could imagine. ¡°What class were you guys even in? Defense Against the Dark Arts?¡± George asked curiously. ¡°Why is your class so exciting while we¡¯re stuck listening to Quirrell mumble about his African adventures? It¡¯s dreadful.¡± Lee waved a piece of parchment in frustration. ¡°Quirrell gave us a fifteen-inch essay to write this week. It¡¯s so annoying. Divination sounds way better. At least we got to learn about fire divination¡ªand there¡¯s no homework!¡± ¡°Divination? Better?¡± The fifth-years, sprawled across the common room, all raised their heads to glare at Lee. One of them let out a wail. ¡°That¡¯s the class we just came from! You have no idea what it¡¯s like to feel like there¡¯s a sword hanging over your head, constantly ready to drop and skewer you! And while being cursed, threatened with baldness, and poked in the backside, you still have to chant spells¡ª¡± ¡°Professor Victor is even more ruthless than Snape!¡± The Gryffindor who shouted this accidentally choked mid-rant, sending himself into a fit of violent coughing before collapsing back onto the sofa, completely motionless. The younger students exchanged uneasy looks, a hint of fear in their eyes. Only Harry and Ron, who had just returned from Charms class, seemed completely bewildered by the scene. The struggles of one year group were incomprehensible to another. Because of the Halloween feast that evening, the exhausted students managed to pull themselves together after an hour of rest and made their way to the Great Hall. The hall was a spectacle: a thousand bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling, while another thousand hovered like dark clouds over the tables, causing the candle flames inside the pumpkins to flicker. Delicious dishes appeared on the golden plates, just like at the start-of-term banquet. However, faint hissing sounds occasionally broke the festive mood at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables¡ªmainly from the unlucky Wood and Flint. This unexpected solidarity between the two houses brought about a rare moment of peace. For the first time, the usual Halloween scuffles between the Gryffindors and Slytherins were entirely canceled. But for Harry, this wasn¡¯t the most surprising thing. The most surprising thing was that Malfoy hadn¡¯t tried to provoke him in ages. While eating his mashed potatoes, Harry glanced toward the Slytherin table and spotted Malfoy¡¯s face¡ªa face that, just weeks ago, had been universally loathed. Now, however, when Malfoy noticed Harry¡¯s gaze, he merely glared before turning away, his face inexplicably pale. ¡°What do you think Malfoy¡¯s been through recently?¡± Harry asked Ron, who was devouring a chicken leg. ¡°Mmph mmph mmph?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand you, Ron.¡± ¡°I said¡ªI have no idea,¡± Ron finally managed, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. ¡°But hey, who cares? At least he hasn¡¯t been bothering us for a couple of weeks.¡± ¡°Maybe Snape told him to stop embarrassing Slytherin,¡± Harry suggested. ¡°Let¡¯s hope so,¡± Ron said with a nod. ¡°I think that¡¯s it,¡± Ron added. ¡°He didn¡¯t even bother us in Charms today¡­ but have you noticed? Miss Know-It-All seems to be annoyed with us lately.¡± ¡°You mean Hermione? Why?¡± Harry asked, surprised. ¡°Probably because we keep breaking school rules and endangering Gryffindor¡¯s points. Who knows? But whenever she sees us, she huffs, like all the house points were earned by her alone. Never mind that you¡¯ve added points in Defense Against the Dark Arts.¡± ¡°Did you see her in Charms today? She tried to correct your pronunciation, but you didn¡¯t even need correcting to cast the Levitation Charm properly.¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 53: Halloween Eve Ron and Harry were discussing their afternoon Charms class. Today''s lesson covered the Levitation Charm, a spell that required precise pronunciation. A small misstep¡ªlike turning the ¡°f¡± sound into an ¡°s¡±¡ªcould leave you flat on your back with a buffalo stomping on your chest. Naturally, Hermione, being the star student she was, took it upon herself to correct her classmates¡¯ mistakes, particularly her partner, Ron. This, of course, had the opposite effect. Ron was infuriated. No one likes a classmate who constantly points out their mistakes. It¡¯s like trying to learn a foreign language and getting interrupted and corrected after every word¡ªnot about right or wrong, but as if you¡¯re being told you¡¯re not smart enough to get it right on the first try. But Ron felt slightly better when Hermione stumbled while correcting Harry. ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Harry recalled. ¡°She wanted to say my wand movement was off, but before she could finish, I cast the Levitation Charm, and Professor Flitwick gave Gryffindor three points.¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Ron said with a touch of satisfaction. ¡°She¡¯s not always right, so why does she have to act like she is all the time?¡± The two of them muttered to each other at the Gryffindor table, not bothering to keep their voices down. Hermione, sitting a few seats away and chatting with her roommate Parvati Patil, overheard them. She turned around, nose wrinkled, looking like an angry Pomeranian. ¡°¡­I was just saying her correction was about the wand movement¡­¡± Hermione marched over, glaring at Ron. ¡°My correction was not wrong! It¡¯s you who got it wrong!¡± she snapped. Ron and Harry froze, staring at her. Hermione rattled off quickly: ¡°According to Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and Magical Theory, the wand movement for the Levitation Charm requires a slight wrist flick followed by a downward arc of at least two inches. In class, your spellwork only completed half of the movement.¡± ¡°And as for pronunciation, you shouldn¡¯t emphasize the ¡®d.¡¯ Instead, you need to elongate the middle syllable and pronounce it clearly¡­¡± She continued listing everything they¡¯d done wrong, hands on her hips, before concluding: ¡°You only succeeded this afternoon by sheer luck. If you don¡¯t adjust your spellcasting, you¡¯ll never score an O on your exams.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Harry retorted, ¡°It wasn¡¯t luck that I succeeded.¡± ¡°Were you even listening to me? Your casting method doesn¡¯t align with the textbook¡­¡± ¡°Just because it¡¯s not in the textbook doesn¡¯t make it wrong!¡± Harry interrupted again. He spoke earnestly: ¡°Plenty of experienced wizards simplify wand movements to cast faster. I read in another book that as long as the core motion is correct, most spells will still work.¡± With that, Harry pulled out his wand from his cloak pocket and aimed at a plate on the table. ¡°Wingardium Leviosa!¡± He gave a subtle wrist flick and made a brief motion in the air. The plate wobbled slightly before rising a few inches off the table, floating steadily. Hermione was momentarily speechless. ¡°See?¡± Harry said, turning to her. She paused for several seconds, then muttered, ¡°...Which book did you read that in? I¡¯ve gone through A History of Magic and Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, and I¡¯ve never seen such a description.¡± ¡°From Bloodlines to Hexes,¡± Harry replied. ¡°It¡¯s a book Professor gave me. It¡¯s filled with notes on spellcasting. I practiced its techniques all summer, and they worked for most of the spells I tried.¡± ¡°Well...okay,¡± Hermione conceded reluctantly. ¡°But the textbook method is still the most reliable. I think we should stick to that in class.¡± Although she was no longer as confrontational, her tone remained stiff. She left after dropping this remark. Ron scowled as he watched her retreating figure, rolling his eyes. He muttered to Harry, ¡°Why does she always have to be such a know-it-all? Even when you¡¯re right, she still clings to the book like it¡¯s the Bible. No wonder everyone avoids her.¡± However, as Ron finished his complaint, Hermione¡¯s footsteps faltered. A moment later, she hurried out of the Great Hall, the heavy door closing behind her with a dull thud. ¡°...She heard you,¡± Harry said, glancing after her. ¡°So what?¡± Ron replied, though he looked uneasy. ¡°She¡¯s probably realized it by now. She doesn¡¯t have a single friend in this school.¡± But Ron fell silent shortly after, looking uncomfortable. He eventually turned his attention to the pile of chicken on his plate, eating in silence. Harry glanced toward the doors where Hermione had disappeared but said nothing. To be honest, he sometimes found Hermione hard to bear too. She had a habit of scolding everyone about potential point deductions, making people avoid her. The two spent the rest of the feast in a subdued mood. What they didn¡¯t expect was that ten minutes later, the Great Hall¡¯s doors were thrown open with a bang. It was Quirrell. His large turban sat askew, and his face was pale with terror. Stumbling into the center of the hall, he gasped: ¡°Troll¡ªin the dungeons¡ªI thought you ought to know¡ª¡± Then he collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint. The hall erupted in chaos. Students screamed and scrambled. Dumbledore had to fire purple sparks from his wand to restore order. ¡°Prefects,¡± he commanded in a low voice, ¡°lead your houses back to the dormitories at once. Professors, follow me.¡± As Dumbledore spoke, Harry instinctively glanced at the staff table, noticing several empty seats. Ten minutes earlier¡­ Hermione had rushed out of the Great Hall, her eyes brimming with tears. She had, of course, heard Ron¡¯s words. Sprinting through the empty corridors, she tried to find a quiet place to hide. But in her distraction, she didn¡¯t notice where she was going and bumped into someone on the stairs. ¡°Ah!¡± The impact sent Hermione stumbling to the ground. ¡°¡­Miss Granger?¡± The voice belonged to Viktor . When Hermione looked up, still dazed, she saw the black-robed figure standing above her. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 54: Who Says You’re Not a Disney Witch? On the eve of Halloween, Hogwarts was unusually quiet. All the students were gathered in the Great Hall enjoying their feast, leaving the hallways, classrooms, and common rooms in eerie stillness. Except for the spiraling staircase leading to the dungeons. Hermione had accidentally bumped into Professor Viktor¡¯s arm, and when she fell, she briefly blacked out. It took her a few seconds to regain her senses and realize who she had run into. ¡°Professor? W-Why are you here?¡± She sniffled, trying her best to act as though nothing had happened. ¡°There¡¯s some strange energy stirring in the dungeons,¡± Viktor said casually, ¡°so I went to check it out. But Professor Quirrell assured me he¡¯s keeping an eye on things, so I came back.¡± ¡°And what about you, Miss Granger? What are you doing here? All the students should be at the feast.¡± At the mention of this, Hermione¡¯s expression fell. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to suppress them. She wiped her face forcefully, intending to say, ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± But when the words reached her lips, they turned into: ¡°They... they all don¡¯t like me. I... I don¡¯t know why... I just didn¡¯t want to stay there any longer...¡± She couldn¡¯t finish the sentence. The mere thought of it brought uncontrollable tears streaming down her face. Before coming to Hogwarts, she had worried about fitting in. To prepare herself, she had bought many extra books from Diagon Alley, determined to keep up with children from wizarding families. But her worst fears had still come true. Hermione rubbed her eyes furiously, leaving the corners red and sore. Despite her efforts, Ron¡¯s words echoed mercilessly in her mind¡ªNo wonder everyone can¡¯t stand her. ¡°I was just trying to make things better for the house, to help everyone learn... Gryffindor hasn¡¯t won the House Cup in years... but no one listens to me,¡± she said defensively, her voice trembling. Viktor raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her outburst. It was the first time anyone had approached him to say something like this. Normally, his friends and clients were careful to avoid personal topics, fearing he might learn too much about their troubles. They only revealed what was necessary for a transaction, and even then, they kept things vague. Viktor had often suspected this was why his clients always seemed dissatisfied with their deals. How could he meet their needs if they didn¡¯t articulate them clearly? But Hermione was different. She was being transparent, her needs and frustrations laid bare. ¡°So, you want them to listen to you?¡± Viktor asked thoughtfully. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too hard for you, Miss Granger. I hear from Professor McGonagall that you¡¯re quite diligent and talented in magic. You¡¯ll achieve great things in the future.¡± ¡°Someday, they¡¯ll heed your advice.¡± Hermione sniffled hard, her mind foggy from crying. Perhaps that¡¯s why Viktor¡¯s words didn¡¯t quite register with her. Wasn¡¯t her point that she didn¡¯t want everyone to simply obey her? But hadn¡¯t she said those very words herself? Struggling to suppress another bout of sobbing, Hermione tried to decipher the professor¡¯s meaning. She concluded he was probably saying her peers would like her eventually. ¡°But they still hate me now,¡± she said tearfully. ¡°Ron said everyone feels the same way...¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°That¡¯s perfectly normal.¡± Viktor nodded, offering her some measured words of comfort. His past experiences with Baba Yaga¡¯s hut had made him adept at such situations¡ªBaba often took in children, and without a few tricks, the house could become as chaotic as a chicken coop. After a moment¡¯s thought, Viktor asked, ¡°Miss Granger, do you feel you¡¯ve been treated fairly?¡± ¡°N-No.¡± ¡°And do you find that others often misunderstand magic in ways you find simple? That they miss the point entirely?¡± ¡°Yes, they... they do, a lot...¡± ¡°Do you prefer cats over other animals? Do you feel more comfortable around them than children your age?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Hermione admitted, her voice tinged with confusion. ¡°But, Professor, what does that have to do with why people dislike me?¡± ¡°Everything, Miss Granger,¡± Viktor said in his usual calm tone. ¡°It proves you¡¯re a true witch.¡± A true witch? But wasn¡¯t she already a witch? Hermione looked at Viktor, puzzled, her tears momentarily forgotten as she tried to decipher his meaning. ¡°Many young witches and wizards can use magic,¡± Viktor explained, ¡°but they waste too much time seeking approval from the mediocre, losing sight of their goals. Only those who truly pursue power can rise above and grasp the true meaning of magic.¡± ¡°Magic is power, Miss Granger.¡± ¡°Although I disagree with the rest of that person¡¯s ideology, the principle stands. You don¡¯t need to win affection by pleasing others. Walk far enough down the path of magic, and others will respect you¡ªand fear offending you.¡± Hermione listened, stunned. Something felt off¡ªshe was sure she¡¯d heard the phrase magic is power somewhere before. But her mind was too muddled to recall exactly where. So she blinked her red, swollen eyes and asked hesitantly, ¡°But shouldn¡¯t I try to get along with my classmates? My mum always says...¡± ¡°That¡¯s a Muggle¡¯s rule, Miss Granger. Wizards are different. Magic creates miracles.¡± Hermione still didn¡¯t fully understand, but she found herself believing Viktor. After all, wasn¡¯t this how Slytherins often behaved? And weren¡¯t professors always right? ¡°But I¡¯m already trying so, so hard, Professor,¡± she said, her voice breaking. ¡°I don¡¯t know what more I can do... Some third-year spells are already too hard for me to learn...¡± ¡°That is indeed a problem.¡± Viktor nodded knowingly. It didn¡¯t take much thought to realize Hermione couldn¡¯t become a wizard of Dumbledore¡¯s caliber overnight. Even with her diligence, it would take years of effort to truly excel in magic. After a pause, Viktor reached into his cloak and pulled out a small cloth pouch. He rummaged through it briefly before producing a golden conch shell and a peculiar fishbone. ¡°These are magical artifacts,¡± Viktor said earnestly, handing them to Hermione. She hesitated before accepting the conch, studying them closely. The moment she held the shell, she noticed it wasn¡¯t just gold¡ªit was semi-transparent, with golden light swirling inside, like a living star trapped within. ¡°This conch contains the voice of a magical creature,¡± Viktor explained. ¡°The creature is exceptionally skilled at perceiving others¡¯ thoughts and exerts a subtle charm, much like a Veela, though it evokes feelings of friendship rather than romantic attraction.¡± ¡°If you wear this conch around your neck, it will refine your words, turning them into friendly, convincing expressions.¡± ¡°It... it speaks for me?¡± Hermione asked in disbelief. ¡°Yes,¡± Viktor confirmed. ¡°But I don¡¯t recommend wearing it for long. A day or two should suffice for you to learn from the conch¡¯s way of speaking and avoid offending others in the future.¡± ¡°A true witch solves problems with magic, Miss Granger.¡± Using magic to solve problems... Just to learn how to speak better... Hermione examined the conch again. She had been hesitant, but the mention of ¡°learning¡± tipped her internal scales. It was just a tool for study, right? She¡¯d only use it for a day¡ªor two. Once she understood why her classmates didn¡¯t like her, she would return it to Viktor. But before she could decide, Viktor added, ¡°Oh, but we must discuss the side effects.¡± ¡°Side effects?¡± ¡°Every powerful magical artifact comes with a price, Miss Granger. When you study Alchemy, you¡¯ll understand. The conch will take away your voice while you use it. You¡¯ll only be able to speak through it.¡± ¡°This can lead to certain complications, so I¡¯m only lending it to you for a few days. I trust that¡¯s enough time for you to figure out your issues.¡± ¡°If you choose to use it, you¡¯ll need to activate it with this fishbone by touching it to your throat.¡± ¡°Only then can I give it to you.¡± There seemed to be layers of meaning in Viktor¡¯s words¡ªlayers Hermione wasn¡¯t skilled at deciphering. But that reminded her of something she¡¯d read in Defensive Guide to Dark Arts: Beware of enchanted objects that tempt people into making mistakes. Such items often come with a special price, which is a crucial warning sign to stop using them. ...But surely this wasn¡¯t dark magic? It couldn¡¯t be. Hermione thought about Hogwarts: A History, which described the Ministry of Magic¡¯s rigorous screening process for professors. Surely they wouldn¡¯t hire someone with a criminal record. The choice weighed heavily on her: to trade her voice for social skills or continue being disliked by her peers. Hermione hesitated, looking down at the artifacts in her hands. They were enchanting and beautiful¡ªeven the fishbone lacked any sinister aura. It was round and cartoonishly cute, like something out of a storybook. Just for study. After a few seconds, she raised the fishbone and brought it to her throat. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 55: The Song from the Underground Classroom Time returned to the present. When Professor Quirrell shouted ¡°Troll in the dungeon!¡± in the Great Hall, the Halloween feast was abruptly canceled. All students were instructed to return to their respective common rooms under the prefects¡¯ supervision, while the professors left to deal with the troll. As first-years, Harry and Ron were part of the crowd heading back to the dormitory. Percy Weasley, Gryffindor¡¯s prefect, naturally led the way. His fiery red hair and prim demeanor radiated the quiet pride of his position. ¡°Follow me, don¡¯t get separated, first-years!¡± Percy commanded as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. ¡°As long as you listen to me, there¡¯s no need to fear the troll. Stick close. Move aside up front; the first-years are coming through!¡± ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯m a prefect!¡± With this authoritative air, Percy parted the mass of students from various houses, guiding the first-years out. In truth, making Percy a prefect might have been one of the best decisions Hogwarts professors had ever made. The mere title was enough to fill him with boundless energy to execute his duties to perfection. Harry and Ron trailed closely behind. They didn¡¯t particularly mind returning early to the common room¡ªafter all, they¡¯d already stuffed themselves with three or four plates of chicken and two bowls of mashed potatoes at the feast. Still, Harry asked curiously, ¡°What does a troll look like? How did it get in?¡± ¡°Trolls, as the name suggests, are large magical creatures¡ªand incredibly dim-witted,¡± Percy explained from the front. ¡°They usually have tough skin, towering stature, and an aggressive nature. The Ministry of Magic classifies them as XXXX, meaning they¡¯re dangerous but manageable for skilled wizards.¡± ¡°There¡¯s even a painting of a troll clubbing Barnabas the Barmy on the eighth floor. If you¡¯re curious, you can take a look.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if there are trolls in the Forbidden Forest¡ªno one knows what¡¯s in there¡ªbut if one is here, it likely came in through an unlocked door. Maybe Peeves let it in; he hasn¡¯t pulled a major prank in a while and might be trying to make a splash.¡± Percy turned a corner as he spoke, leading them toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry nodded, half-understanding. The surrounding crowd remained chaotic, with all four houses¡¯ students jostling to return to their common rooms. The prefects struggled to maintain order. As they squeezed through a corridor, they suddenly encountered a professor walking toward them¡ªProfessor Victor. Professor Victor seemed unusually cheerful, his usual aloofness replaced with an air of satisfaction, as though something had gone well. Harry noticed something white glinting inside Victor¡¯s cloak, but before he could make out what it was, the cloak swung closed. Victor glanced at the throng of students clogging the Great Hall entrance and stopped Percy¡¯s group. ¡°What¡¯s going on here? Is the feast over?¡± ¡°Yes, Professor,¡± Percy responded promptly, standing at attention. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°There¡¯s a troll in the dungeons. Professor Dumbledore has instructed us prefects to escort students back to their common rooms immediately, while the professors deal with the troll.¡± ¡°A troll? That¡¯s odd,¡± Victor said, tilting his head. ¡°I just came from the dungeons. Professor Quirrell was there, and he said he¡¯d keep an eye on things.¡± ¡°The troll was discovered by Professor Quirrell, but it seems he didn¡¯t handle it,¡± Percy explained. ¡°I see.¡± Victor nodded, pausing as if in thought. His gaze lingered on the Great Hall before he prepared to leave Percy¡¯s group. But before he departed, Percy asked, ¡°Have you seen Hermione, Professor? I heard she left earlier, but I haven¡¯t seen her nearby.¡± ¡°... Miss Granger?¡± Victor hesitated briefly before replying. ¡°She did head toward the dungeons. I passed her near the stairs¡ªshe seemed upset, probably heading to the restroom to freshen up.¡± Percy¡¯s expression shifted slightly, but Victor appeared unconcerned, speaking as casually as if discussing the changes to the evening feast. However, under Percy¡¯s anxious gaze, he added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I¡¯m heading to join the other professors now. We¡¯ll find her soon.¡± With that, Victor nodded curtly and strode away. ... As Victor left, he paid no attention to Harry and Ron at the back of the group¡ªor the sudden change in their expressions. The moment Victor mentioned Hermione in the dungeons, Ron began nervously fidgeting, and Harry anxiously glanced toward the staircase leading down. How could the professor remain so indifferent? Hermione was with the troll¡ªa troll! Those XXXX-classified creatures posed a serious threat to her safety! Once Victor disappeared around the corner, Ron bit his lip and said, ¡°We¡¯ve got to find Hermione.¡± He looked pale but resolute. ¡°She probably doesn¡¯t know about this, and the professors might take too long to get to her. By then, she could already be hurt. I¡¯m not saying you have to come with me¡ªI mean¡ªugh, it¡¯s my fault she¡¯s upset.¡± ¡°No problem, Ron,¡± Harry agreed firmly. ¡°Let¡¯s go find her. If she¡¯s in the restroom, the troll shouldn¡¯t notice her.¡± ¡°We just need to get her out.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right... Let¡¯s go this way; we¡¯d better avoid Percy.¡± They ducked into the Hufflepuff crowd and slipped down an empty side corridor. Moving quickly, they turned a corner and descended, but before they could go far, hurried footsteps echoed behind them. ¡°It might be Percy!¡± Ron whispered, pulling Harry behind a large hippogriff statue. Peeking out, they saw it wasn¡¯t Percy but Snape. Snape¡¯s face bore a cold, determined smile as he strode down the corridor and out of sight. Harry and Ron cautiously followed, only to see him heading in the opposite direction of the dungeons. ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± Harry whispered. ¡°Why isn¡¯t he helping with the troll?¡± ¡°No idea,¡± Ron replied, shaking his head. ¡°But that path leads to the fourth-floor spiral staircase.¡± They watched Snape disappear, frustration evident on their faces¡ªthey¡¯d love to uncover one of Snape¡¯s secrets. But they remembered their mission. As they turned to leave, Ron suddenly said, ¡°Did you hear that?¡± ¡°Hear what?¡± Harry asked, confused. Then he heard it too. It wasn¡¯t the troll. As Harry pressed closer to the wall, he caught the faint sound of a melodic, clear voice singing. Though distant, the song was captivating, the singer¡¯s voice ethereal and beautiful. Without speaking, Harry and Ron instinctively moved toward the sound. They turned a corner and entered the dim central area of the dungeons. The song grew clearer¡ªa hauntingly unfamiliar melody. As they approached, the voice sang: "They¡¯ll stroll together; they¡¯ll run together; Sit by the shore and watch the sunset; How I wish, oh how I wish, to be part of that world! But I don¡¯t know how to leave the waters, Or what price to pay to walk on the sands all day." The voice soared, drawing them to a slightly ajar restroom door. Harry gently pushed the door open, revealing the scene inside. Before them stood a long mirror above the sinks, where Hogwarts witches often adjusted their appearances. At this moment, a young witch was doing the same. She gently combed her bushy brown hair with one hand, gazing into the mirror as she sang. "To leave the sea, to be... ...part of that world...¡± Her voice was mesmerizing, her presence radiating an inexplicable charm. Harry leaned in to see who it was. As the door creaked open further, the reflection in the mirror became clearer¡ª Bushy hair, brown eyes, slightly large front teeth¡ªit was Hermione. Hermione?! Harry¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. He also noticed something glinting at her neck¡ªa golden conch shell necklace. ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 56: The Effect of the Conch In the bathroom, Hermione was standing in front of the mirror, slowly combing her messy, frizzy hair while opening her mouth, marveling at the strange sensation of singing when her throat could no longer produce sound. She stared at her reflection, still finding it hard to believe. ¡­She had lost her voice? What had she been thinking earlier? Why hadn¡¯t she taken more time to consider her decision? She had carelessly given up her voice! Thinking of this, Hermione couldn¡¯t help but tug at her hair, making her newly tidied hairstyle instantly messy again, resembling a lion¡¯s mane on edge. She quickly tried to smooth her hair back down, but her mind was still filled with regret and self-reproach¡ª Hermione, oh Hermione, how could you resort to external tools to solve your problems? You¡¯re supposed to be a good student! Didn¡¯t Professor McGonagall always say that relying on shortcuts or external aids can never truly help one master a skill? If she had been given more time to think, Hermione was sure she wouldn¡¯t have accepted Professor Viktor¡¯s proposal. But now it was too late for regret, Hermione thought. The moment she had pressed the fishbone against her throat and uttered the first syllable, the fishbone had lit up in a peculiar way. Along with that light, her voice had rapidly diminished until it completely disappeared. Professor Viktor had taken the fishbone afterward, saying: "The necessary ritual is complete. You can now start using the conch." ¡°Remember, when the conch speaks, you must mimic the same mouth movements. Otherwise, not only will others notice, but you might also experience assimilation effects from the conch. However, it¡¯s not a big deal¡ªjust stop using it, and it will go away immediately.¡± Before Hermione could ask more about the negative effects, Professor Viktor had walked off on his own. For that reason, Hermione decided to run to the bathroom to figure out how the conch worked. When she tried using the conch, the thought of singing had naturally popped into her mind. ¡°Screeeak¡ª¡± As Hermione was still distracted by her thoughts of singing, a faint creaking sound suddenly came from beside her, making her freeze instantly. The door was moving. Someone was coming. She hurriedly tried to hide the conch hanging around her neck but realized it was too late. She could only try her best to maintain a calm expression as she turned to look. But the moment she looked¡­ She saw two boys peeking into the girls¡¯ bathroom. From her perspective, she could clearly see the wooden door of the girls¡¯ bathroom had been pushed open a crack. In that narrow slit, the heads of Harry and Ron were squeezed in side by side. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Hermione: ¡°...¡± Hermione: ¡°???¡± For a moment, all her panic and regret vanished, replaced by sheer astonishment. That astonishment quickly morphed into anger. She immediately wanted to shout¡ª Were they insane? Skipping the banquet just to peek into the girls¡¯ bathroom? Did they think Gryffindor didn¡¯t have enough points deducted already? She glared at them furiously, but the words that came out were instead: ¡°Harry? Ron?¡± When she stopped singing, that crisp, gentle voice flowed out of her mouth again. ¡°Did you come looking for me on purpose? Thank you¡ªI thought you didn¡¯t care about what I was thinking... But next time, don¡¯t push the bathroom door. Just knock.¡± Hearing her own words, Hermione froze and quickly shut her mouth. That wasn¡¯t what she had wanted to say! The conch pendant on her chest shimmered faintly as she spoke, but outside the door, Harry and Ron didn¡¯t seem to notice. They just stared at her, slack-jawed. Outside the bathroom. They squeezed even closer to the door crack. ¡°H-Hermione?¡± ¡°Is that really you? Merlin¡¯s beard, you never told us you could sing!¡± Ron exclaimed in disbelief. ¡°And sing so beautifully!¡± ¡°¡­I just discovered it today.¡± After a few seconds, Hermione opened her mouth, and that clear voice answered on its own again. ¡°It shows that people should try new things¡ªwhether it¡¯s singing, Transfiguration, or Charms, it¡¯s all the same.¡± Hermione¡¯s voice had clearly turned Ron¡¯s brain to mush; he even forgot they¡¯d had a quarrel earlier. He just stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. ¡­Hermione¡¯s voice was always this lovely? Both he and Harry couldn¡¯t help but wonder. But Harry quickly realized he couldn¡¯t make sense of it¡ªbecause, strangely, he couldn¡¯t remember what Hermione¡¯s original voice sounded like. Her current voice wasn¡¯t particularly unusual, but it was exceptionally pleasant to listen to. Even though she was still talking about academics, her choice of words had changed, making it impossible to feel any irritation. Instead, he just wanted to hear more. ¡­More of Hermione¡¯s voice? Merlin¡¯s pants, what was he thinking! This was Hermione, who almost always acted like a perpetually charged alarm bell. The moment any student tried to defy a professor¡¯s instructions, she¡¯d immediately go off, announcing loudly, ¡°I¡¯m telling the professor!¡± or ¡°You¡¯ll lose Gryffindor points!¡± Harry shook himself out of it, trying to banish the oddly vivid image from his mind. He couldn¡¯t help but ask again, ¡°Are you really Hermione?¡± ¡°Of course. What kind of magic at Hogwarts could replace me?¡± Hermione frowned slightly. Although her voice remained gentle, her expression gave Harry a look that clearly said, ¡°You haven¡¯t been studying properly,¡± instantly tying her to her previous self in Harry¡¯s mind. ¡°I just thought you¡¯ve changed a lot,¡± Harry said awkwardly. ¡°You know, uh... when you left the hall earlier, you weren¡¯t like this. Did something happen?¡± ¡°I met Professor Viktor and talked with him. He told me I shouldn¡¯t feel bad about how others see me.¡± ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry.¡± Harry¡¯s awkwardness deepened. However, he noticed something subtly off¡ªHermione¡¯s eyes sometimes widened when she spoke, and her expression didn¡¯t always match her tone. Even her mouth movements seemed slightly mismatched at times. Why was that? Before Harry could figure it out, Ron suddenly spoke: ¡°What¡¯s that smell?¡± He sniffed, prompting Harry to do the same. A foul odor wafted into their noses. Even inside the bathroom, Hermione wrinkled her small nose, clearly noticing the stench as well. Wait¡­ that stench¡­ Harry and Ron¡¯s expressions changed drastically. Snapping out of their shock, they turned their heads to look around. Predictably, not far away, they spotted a large, grotesque creature. Perhaps Hermione¡¯s singing had masked its footsteps, keeping Harry and Ron from noticing its approach. But now that they had spotted it, the distance between them and the creature was alarmingly short. The magical beast was terrifying. Twelve feet tall, its skin was dull and granite-like, its massive, clumsy body resembling a heap of mud topped with a cocoa-bean-shaped head. Its short, tree-stump-like legs ended in flat, calloused feet. A nauseating stench emanated from it, and it dragged a huge wooden club along the ground with its long arms. This was where Harry and Ron had gone wrong. Their startled jumps upon noticing the creature immediately drew its attention. ¡°It¡¯s a troll!¡± Ron shouted at once. ¡°Quick! Into the bathroom¡ªlock the door!¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 57: Hermiones Transformation When a troll appeared in the hallway outside the dungeon classrooms, the scene was nothing short of spectacular. Its enormous gray body filled the entire corridor, and a pungent stench assaulted their senses, causing Harry and Ron to cough violently as they fled. But they didn¡¯t dare to stop running. In a flash, they dashed into the girls¡¯ bathroom. ¡°The key¡¯s in the lock! Quick, lock the door!¡± Harry shouted as soon as he burst in. ¡°Is that even necessary? The troll probably doesn¡¯t know how to open doors, right?¡± Ron grumbled. Even so, his hands moved quickly, locking the door, pulling out the key, and slamming the door shut just as the troll¡¯s heavy footsteps approached. ¡°Phew!¡± Ron let out a breath of relief but immediately stepped back a few paces to distance himself from the door. At that moment, the three people in the girls¡¯ bathroom were all visibly shaken. Despite two of them being boys, there was no time to worry about such details. Harry¡¯s chest heaved as he stood by the sink, while Hermione¡¯s face turned pale, her eyes fixed on the door. That¡­ was that a troll? One of those notoriously aggressive creatures that frequently caused injuries to wizards? She bit her lip, her gaze nervously glued to the locked door, which quivered under the troll¡¯s heavy footsteps. Before long, the weighty footsteps grew louder, accompanied by guttural grunts and the scraping sound of enormous feet dragging across the floor. Then, everything fell silent. The three of them held their breaths, frozen in place. "........." "........." Time seemed to stretch endlessly. It was as if the troll hadn¡¯t noticed them. The corridor outside returned to an eerie stillness. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s gone?¡± Harry whispered, barely audible. But in the very next second¡ª BANG! With a single resounding thud, the wooden door to the bathroom shuddered under the impact, cracks spreading instantly across its surface. BANG! BANG! The door endured two or three more strikes. Chunks of plaster from the nearby walls crumbled and fell, and the latch was jarred loose, tumbling to the floor with a metallic clang! The door wouldn¡¯t hold for more than one or two more hits. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Realizing this, Ron and Harry turned pale, fumbling helplessly. Hermione trembled violently with each impact, barely restraining a scream. ¡°...We need to hide behind the sinks. Quickly.¡± Hermione¡¯s face was ghostly white, but her voice was clear and composed, startling even herself. And yet, the words kept flowing as she opened her mouth again. ¡°Ron, Harry, you two hide in the stalls on either side. I¡¯ll stay behind the sinks. When the troll comes in, it¡¯ll spot me first, but the sinks will block its way. While it¡¯s smashing the sinks, we¡¯ll have a brief window to act.¡± ¡°We need to cast spells together.¡± ¡°T-together?¡± Ron stammered in disbelief. ¡°But we barely know any spells!¡± ¡°You do,¡± Hermione said, trembling but firm. ¡°Remember the Levitation Charm we practiced this afternoon? If you get the wrist movement right and stretch the ¡®gar¡¯ sound, you¡¯ll be able to cast it properly.¡± ¡°This is our only¡­ our only chance.¡± ¡°Hermione¡¯s right.¡± After a moment, Harry¡¯s expression hardened with determination. ¡°I¡¯ll also use those jinxes we learned earlier. All we need to do is distract the troll and buy some time. Even if we can¡¯t escape, we just have to hold out until the professors arrive.¡± ¡°...Alright, let¡¯s do it!¡± Clenching his teeth, Ron agreed. He and Harry exchanged a look, then quickly moved to find hiding spots in the stalls on either side. But after taking two steps, Ron noticed that Hermione was still sitting where she was, her face so pale it seemed she might faint. ¡°Hey, Hermione, don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll follow your plan, and we¡¯ll make it out of here!¡± Ron ran over and pulled her to her feet. He couldn¡¯t quite figure out why Hermione¡¯s actions didn¡¯t match her earlier calm voice, but he chalked it up to her putting on a brave face¡ªthere was no shame in that. After all, both he and Harry were terrified too. This was a troll, smashing down the door! If they got hit squarely by one of its blows, they might not even make it to St. Mungo¡¯s! They¡¯d be dead on the spot! If that happened, they¡¯d go down in Hogwarts history as the first students to die from a troll attack. Ron yanked Hermione up. She still looked frightened, but she finally seemed to snap out of it. Her lips parted slightly, and a soft voice escaped: ¡°...Thank you. Go now. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Ron gave her a quick nod and darted behind the door of an open stall nearby. A few feet away, Harry also steadied himself, wand in hand, taking a deep breath. But they didn¡¯t know that Hermione was trembling so much she could barely keep her teeth from chattering. She was terrified. Never in her life had she been in a situation where she had to fight, let alone face mortal danger. She¡¯d always excelled academically, so no one ever bullied her. Her parents never put her in harm¡¯s way. But now¡­ She glanced down at the shell necklace hanging around her neck. The golden glow from the shell pulsed faintly, flickering like something alive. ¡°I can do this.¡± Recalling the words the shell had spoken for her earlier, Hermione felt a trace of calm return to her panicked mind. ...Yes, she knew the Levitation Charm. She also knew Transfiguration and the Fire-Making Spell. She¡¯d practiced them at home and never failed. She just needed to think¡ªthink about how to use them effectively. Taking a few deep breaths, Hermione gripped her wand tightly. ... BOOM! A few seconds later, with another deafening crash, the bathroom door gave way completely. Splintered wood flew everywhere, scattering across the room. The troll¡¯s enormous, foul-smelling body loomed in the doorway, its bulk nearly swallowing the flickering candlelight. Sure enough, upon entering, the troll¡¯s small, dull eyes locked onto Hermione, who was huddled in the far corner. It began moving toward her, its rough, leathery feet scraping against the floor. As it advanced, its hulking body smashed against the sinks, breaking them away from the walls. Large chunks of stone tumbled to the ground, blocking its path. The troll glanced down at the debris with its tiny head, lifted a massive foot, and stomped hard¡ªcrushing the stones to dust as if they were tofu. And Hermione shouted: ¡°Now!¡± The three of them raised their wands simultaneously¡ª ¡°Incendio!¡± ¡°Wingardium Leviosa!¡± ¡°Serpensortia!¡± ---- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 58: The Unfortunate Troll The troll faced three simultaneous spells. The first was a dazzling flame from the front, causing it to stumble back. The second was a hissing black serpent slithering around its feet, diverting its attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ron launched his final attack¡ª With a flick of his wand, a broken section of pipe from the floor floated shakily upward, turned, and dropped directly onto the troll''s head. Thud! The impact of the pipe against the troll''s skull produced a dull sound. The troll howled in pain but didn¡¯t lose consciousness. Clearly, the pipes and faucets at Hogwarts were far too flimsy to pierce the thick skin of a troll. While screeching, the troll began flailing its wooden club wildly, smashing restroom stalls and tiles, sending debris flying in all directions. The young wizards were forced to retreat into the farthest corner to avoid the destruction. ¡°We need to lure it further from the door; we can¡¯t escape with it so close!¡± Ron shouted during the chaos. ¡°We need to confuse it more!¡± Harry added. ¡°Are you mad? If it gets any more confused, we¡¯ll be squashed along with the girls¡¯ bathroom!¡± ¡­ Ron and Harry attempted to strategize amidst the storm of shattered wood and stone, but it was futile. The troll soon recovered from its dizziness. Its small beetle-like eyes glinted with fury before it stomped on the black snake slithering around its feet. Hermione¡¯s burning spell had merely singed its eyes briefly, offering no further effect. Even her attempt to transfigure another pipe into a spear ended in failure¡ªthe troll tore it apart with ease. This wasn¡¯t just due to the troll¡¯s massive size, which kept it out of range for most spells, but also because trolls, classified as XXXX-level creatures, possessed a unique skin resistant to certain types of magic. The three were quickly cornered, and the troll loomed closer with every step. ...Just as the professors had warned, inexperienced wizards should never attempt to face a XXXX-level creature. This was the only thought Hermione could muster in her blank mind. Yet, as she stared in horror at the approaching troll, unable to think of any spell to counter it, she suddenly heard a strange song. The melody had no lyrics, but it exuded an ethereal, dreamlike quality¡ªa mysterious and otherworldly aura, like a dense fog suddenly descending over the area. She felt the seashell pendant on her chest grow warm. The song grew louder, and a golden light began to shine brighter, catching the attention of Harry and Ron. At the same time, Harry noticed something peculiar¡ªthe troll¡¯s small eyes seemed to widen, faint traces of golden light flickering within them. If the troll¡¯s steps hadn¡¯t visibly slowed, Harry might have thought he was imagining things. This is our chance! The thought flashed through Harry¡¯s mind, prompting him to raise his wand at the troll. In that instant, all the spells he¡¯d learned raced through his memory... Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. There were only five, and one of them¡ªa Transfiguration Charm¡ªhe hadn¡¯t mastered. Determined, he steeled himself and quietly uttered: ¡°Imperio!¡± No light burst forth from his wand, but both Harry and the troll froze momentarily. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to sense the troll¡¯s mind¡ªif the tiny, pitiful orb he felt could even be called a mind. He reached out to it, pouring all his strength into conveying one clear command: ¡°Knock yourself out... Knock yourself out!¡± He practically screamed it within his mind. At some point, Harry felt a strange sensation, as if something had flowed out of his wand. A heavy thud immediately followed. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the troll sway on the spot before collapsing face-first onto the ground with an earth-shaking crash, causing the entire room to tremble. A large lump was visible on the troll¡¯s head. The singing stopped, as did Ron¡¯s frantic attempt at a Levitation Charm. The three stared blankly at the unconscious troll. ¡°What just happened?¡± Harry asked hesitantly. ¡°Didn¡¯t you see? Good heavens, the troll knocked itself out!¡± Ron¡¯s expression shifted from shock to delight. ¡°Was it so dazed by all the hits it couldn¡¯t tell its head from ours? Or did one of our spells finally work? Harry, what did you cast?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t hear my incantation?¡± ¡°I caught part of it¡ª¡®Im¡¯-something¡ªbut Hermione¡¯s singing drowned you out.¡± Hearing this, Harry sighed in disappointment, while Hermione quietly clutched her seashell, removed it, and slipped it back into her pocket. Before the trio could fully process what had happened, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor. Moments later, Professor McGonagall burst into the devastated girls¡¯ bathroom, followed by Snape, Quirrell, and Professor Vector. Quirrell took one look at the troll and collapsed onto a toilet, clutching his chest and sobbing. Snape examined the troll with a calculating expression, while Vector entered slowly, arms crossed, standing silently beside Quirrell. Professor McGonagall¡¯s pale face turned to the three students. ¡°Explain yourselves. What on earth were you playing at?¡± The trio flinched simultaneously. ¡°You¡¯re lucky it didn¡¯t kill you. But why weren¡¯t you in your dormitories where you belong?¡± she demanded. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, Percy escorted you away earlier, correct?¡± Before anyone could answer, Snape¡¯s cold gaze fell upon Harry. ¡°Indeed. Tell us, Mr. Potter, has our famous savior grown so confident that he believes himself capable of defeating a troll?¡± he sneered. ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Harry replied, staring at the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t blame them, Professor. They came to help me.¡± Hermione suddenly stepped forward from the corner, though her movements were unsteady. ¡°Because you got separated? I instructed Percy to let the professors handle that. They could have returned to the dormitory,¡± Professor Vector said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that,¡± Hermione said weakly, lowering her head. ¡°Harry and Ron heard the commotion and came to help. ¡°Harry distracted the troll with a snake, Ron hit it with a Levitation Charm, and in the end, the troll knocked itself out. If they hadn¡¯t come, I might have been eaten alive.¡± Professor McGonagall scrutinized Hermione for a moment before sighing. ¡°Miss Granger, you foolish girl. Did you really think you could take on a mountain troll alone?¡± Hermione lowered her head further. Harry and Ron tried to look as if they had rehearsed the story, but their shock was evident¡ªHermione lying for them? That was as surreal as Snape handing out candy on Halloween. Except, of course, that had never happened. Snape interrupted in his usual drawl. ¡°Really? Odd... This troll bears traces of Dark Magic.¡± Peering at the troll¡¯s lifeless eyes, he grimaced and muttered, ¡°It might not survive.¡± Quirrell let out a loud wail, nearly fainting on the spot. Meanwhile, the trio exchanged anxious glances, feeling uneasy¡ªnot because of the mention of Dark Magic, but because of the idea that the troll might not make it. Even if it had almost crushed them, the thought stirred a hint of guilt. Snape merely cast them a disdainful glance and said no more. The four professors exchanged looks, each wearing a different expression, but all remained silent. Finally, Professor McGonagall spoke, waving dismissively. ¡°Miss Granger, your actions will cost Gryffindor five points. I¡¯m very disappointed in you. But since you seem uninjured, you may return to the common room. The feast is still ongoing.¡± Hermione nodded and left with her head down. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. ¡°While few first-years could face a fully grown troll, I can¡¯t reward you for recklessness. You¡¯ll each earn Gryffindor five points.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll inform Professor Dumbledore about this. You may go.¡± Grateful for their reprieve, Harry and Ron followed Hermione out. Their camaraderie seemed instantly strengthened by their shared ordeal¡ªthere¡¯s nothing like battling a twelve-foot troll to forge bonds. However, Harry noticed Hermione walking unsteadily, as if her legs were about to give out. As they neared the door, he whispered, ¡°Are you okay?¡± Hermione gripped the seashell tightly and replied in an oddly sharp voice, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± --- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 59: Half a Dozen Lies Viktor quickly averted his gaze from Hermione. He understood what was happening to her. Her limp was evident¡ªa side effect of the conch shell. When the conch¡¯s original energy was exhausted, it left behind a curse-like effect. While the sea witch Ursula could easily dispel it, Hermione, a human with still-limited magical knowledge, couldn¡¯t. The only solution was to stop using the conch shell. Probably just a matter of two or three days, Viktor guessed, as his hand brushed against the shimmering, angular fishbone in his pocket through the cloak. This should prove useful for the ritual. --- After the three students left, the professors dispersed as well, following Professor McGonagall¡¯s brisk declaration, ¡°I¡¯ll inform the Headmaster.¡± Quirrell kept insisting he had a way to keep the troll alive before hurrying off again. Snape watched him leave, sneering as his expression darkened further. ¡°He always has solutions, doesn¡¯t he?¡± He limped out of the girls¡¯ lavatory, casting a dour glance at Viktor. ¡°Claiming he can save a troll that¡¯s been injured that badly¡ªif he¡¯s got such brilliant techniques, why doesn¡¯t he share them with the students during his lessons? All I¡¯ve heard is that his Defense Against the Dark Arts class has turned into a laughable literary critique.¡± ¡°Perhaps ordinary wizards can¡¯t learn those techniques,¡± Viktor responded coolly. Snape scoffed again. ¡°Can¡¯t learn? More like too shameful to reveal.¡± His expression turned venomous, clearly harboring a deep grudge against Quirrell. Viktor had heard from Professor Burbage, who taught Muggle Studies, that Snape had always coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position but had never succeeded in obtaining it. Midway through speaking, Snape stumbled slightly on a step, his face contorting in pain. He froze, keeping the same position, and after two or three seconds, slowly lowered his injured right leg. As he moved, a metallic tang of blood, previously masked by the troll¡¯s stench, became apparent. ¡°Damn it,¡± Snape muttered through gritted teeth. Viktor glanced at him, noting the blood soaking through Snape¡¯s trousers, which left him limping. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to visit St. Mungo¡¯s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries? I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re the most authoritative in medical treatment.¡± ¡°No need,¡± Snape replied icily. ¡°Some of the potions they use are brewed by me. Why would I waste my time going there? Besides, I won¡¯t allow Quirrell to disgrace my Potions class.¡± If he left, someone else would have to substitute, and Quirrell might be assigned¡ªhis and Professor Sprout¡¯s schedules were the most flexible lately. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Viktor shrugged and dropped the subject. He felt Snape wasn¡¯t being entirely truthful, and pressing further seemed pointless. In truth, the professors had arrived late earlier because they¡¯d been searching for Snape on the fourth floor. While they were investigating, Snape had claimed he needed to check the magical protections there, possibly to catch someone trying to stir up trouble. But he hadn¡¯t returned for a while. When Professor McGonagall suggested looking for him on the fourth floor, they found his leg clamped in the jaws of Fluffy, the three-headed dog. It was impressive he managed to make it downstairs with an injured leg. While climbing the stairs, Snape had grimly enchanted a piece of fabric to float, allowing it to support his wounded leg as he moved. Without turning back, he waved dismissively, ready to leave. But Viktor called out to him. ¡°Severus.¡± Snape turned abruptly, somewhat startled. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Are you knowledgeable about alchemy?¡± Viktor asked. ¡°Alchemy? You should ask Professor Phernomon. His office is in the South Tower. He¡¯s the expert on anything related to alchemy, though he doesn¡¯t venture out much since he only teaches sixth- and seventh-years.¡± Only teaches sixth- and seventh-years? Viktor¡¯s attention snagged on that detail. If he¡¯d known such arrangements were possible, he¡¯d have applied to Dumbledore before enrolling. Unfortunately, it was already mid-term, too late for adjustments. After a brief pause, Viktor decided to address the more pressing matter. ¡°It¡¯s not just about alchemy. Severus, have you heard of potions involving alchemical processes?¡± ¡°You mean refining and altering specific magical biological materials through alchemy to force them to fuse and produce effects?¡± ¡°Where did you see such a formula?¡± Snape frowned. ¡°Over a decade ago, The Potioner¡¯s Weekly published a paper disproving alchemical potions as feasible, given that current alchemy can¡¯t create materials identical to biological ones.¡± ¡°What if I could create such materials?¡± Viktor asked. Snape¡¯s frown deepened, but he didn¡¯t walk away¡ªnot just because he owed Viktor, but also because his passion for potions wouldn¡¯t let him ignore something potentially groundbreaking. ¡°Where¡¯s the formula? Let me see.¡± ¡°I only have part of it with me,¡± Viktor replied, retrieving a parchment from his pocket and handing it over. The parchment felt unusually smooth, lacking the typical roughness of sheepskin, with a texture more akin to something synthetic. Snape, unfazed, took it and scanned its contents rapidly. The inked words read: The First Key Ingredients:
  • Crocodile tears
  • Mermaid¡¯s voice
  • Sugar and chili
  • Active blue clay
  • The hardest stone
  • Half a dozen lies
Instructions:
  • Add the blue clay first and stir for 13 days until it transforms into a glittering bright blue.
  • Add crocodile tears and the mermaid¡¯s voice.
  • Place in an alchemy cauldron for four nights.
  • At dawn on the fifth day, add the remaining ingredients, concluding with half a dozen lies. Wait for the product...
Snape stopped reading, his face twisting as if he¡¯d just heard the screams of ten Mandrakes. ¡°Setting aside how mermaid voices and active clay became so-called ¡®key¡¯ ingredients...¡± He enunciated each word slowly. ¡°What, exactly, is half a dozen lies supposed to be?¡± Viktor retrieved the parchment from Snape¡¯s trembling hand, glanced at it casually, and replied, ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a material requiring a special container for collection.¡± ¡°...What special container can collect lies?¡± Snape¡¯s breathing grew heavier. If he still had the parchment, he¡¯d likely have shredded it into confetti and tossed it in the bin¡ªwhere it belonged. ¡°This formula of yours is probably rubbish, Professor Viktor,¡± he hissed. ¡°I¡¯m astounded that Slavic magical education is so deficient that you¡¯d entertain such a ridiculous, outdated concoction fit for Muggles.¡± Viktor simply shrugged, his calm demeanor infuriating. ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t aware Britain didn¡¯t have such formulas.¡± ¡°I¡¯d only heard your potions relied mainly on herbal ingredients but sometimes included magical crafting¡ªI assumed this counted as one of those.¡± --- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 60: The Scholars Voice "Emotions between people are never truly shared; at times, one may not even understand their past self from just yesterday." ¡ª Professor Severus Snape, from his book. When Snape laid eyes on that potion formula, he was struck with the same speechless silence that Victor had experienced upon witnessing this world''s form of divination. Potions could work like this? Could this method actually be effective? One could not entirely rule out the possibility, but even if the concoction Victor described truly existed, Snape refused to acknowledge it as a potion¡ªbecause it neither produced the signature aromatic fumes of proper brewing nor contained any herbs. Snape even suspected that stirring blue clay for thirteen days would result in nothing more than a charred black mess stubbornly sticking to the cauldron he diligently cleaned every day. As for the absurd list of ingredients, he couldn''t even bring himself to comment. Just looking at them made him feel as if decades of meticulous potion research were being polluted. That formula¡¯s relationship to potion-making was akin to how trickery differed from true divination, or how Dark magic was distinct from the defense against it. Yet, Victor continued speaking. "I assume you have some understanding of the properties of medicinal ingredients?" After glancing at the parchment for a moment, Victor said calmly, "This formula has a few minor issues. Its activity level is too high, often leading to explosions during brewing." "So I was considering whether substituting a mermaid''s voice with a scholar''s voice might maintain a similar level of activity while making the potion slightly more stable." "Do you have anything comparable in potion-making?" Snape¡¯s expression turned cold and hollow. He took several deep breaths before responding in a low voice: "In the field of potion-making, cauldron explosions are often caused by ingredient conflicts or contamination. If this mermaid¡¯s voice you mention¡ª" His expression grew even more disdainful, as though uttering the term itself was repulsive to him. "¡ªif its extraction process involves steps that introduce impurities, such as exposure to seawater or soil, then yes, an explosion would be inevitable. Stimulant ingredients or those derived from living organisms are indeed more unstable than others." "But this isn¡¯t absolute. The brewer themselves plays a significant role in the process. Some wizards are simply more prone to causing explosions than others. Perhaps it''s coincidence¡­ but I must say, it has far more to do with having eyes and not using them¡ªlike a certain Mr. Finnigan from Gryffindor." Despite his usual disparagement of Gryffindors, Snape¡¯s words were otherwise quite useful. At the very least, they confirmed that Victor''s proposed modification was plausible. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Victor had never extensively studied potion-making before. Even alchemy was only a passing interest. Yet, in the weeks since arriving at Hogwarts, he had developed an instinctive feeling that he would make discoveries in this field. A diviner''s intuition was rarely baseless. Even someone like Professor Trelawney, whose Inner Eye was often clouded, could still vaguely sense changes in circumstances. Even her theory that "a noisy life dulls the clarity of my vision" had a sliver of truth to it. "Well then¡­" Before Victor could continue his inquiry, Snape cut him off, unable to bear it any longer. "Go find Professor Pheromone instead," Snape said icily. "Potion-making requires precise processes and rigorous craftsmanship. My anecdotal insights alone are neither accurate nor necessary. I suggest you borrow Magical Drafts and Potions from the library and start with the basics." That was, in fact, a first-year textbook. But Snape did not explicitly state this, merely adding lightly: "As for anything else related to that formula, do not come to me. I have no interest." His disdain for the formula was evident. Victor, however, merely folded the parchment neatly and tucked it into his pocket, then remarked with an air of certainty: "I think you¡¯ll regret this." "I highly doubt that. What proof do you have?" "No proof is needed. My intuition is enough." Victor tapped his temple. "But if you insist¡­ the planet Mars is particularly bright tonight." "And what exactly does Mars being bright mean?" "Some things lose their potency when spoken aloud, Severus¡ªespecially astrological divinations. They require a degree of ambiguity to ensure that foreseeing the future does not cause adverse effects." "¡­So now we finally understand why centaur divinations are so maddeningly vague," Snape said with a touch of sarcasm. Victor, unfazed by the undertone, merely nodded at him and walked away. Snape was left seething, grinding his molars in frustration at yet another cryptic diviner. He scowled, limping away with a grimace. ¡ª In truth, the scholar¡¯s voice Victor had mentioned was none other than the one he had received from Hermione that afternoon. Her voice had been stored inside a stark white fishbone, which emitted a faint glow and a whisper of Hermione¡¯s ethereal voice whenever one got too close. However, Victor had no intention of lingering near it. In fact, once the fishbone was brought back to the Divination office, every living thing in the room instinctively avoided it¡ªbecause touching it would trigger an anxious voice: "Oh no, I haven¡¯t even started my essay due in five days! Professor McGonagall is going to be so disappointed in me!" The next day, after unintentionally hearing it again, Victor sighed, locking the bone deeper inside a drawer alongside a pitch-black glass jar, ensuring it was well out of earshot. But the true reason he kept it was that it served as a crucial ingredient in his planned alchemical potion. The formula he had shown Snape was merely a small part of a grand alchemical ritual designed to create an immortal soul. Theoretically, even this fragment of the process could forge a vessel capable of housing a soul¡ªrepresenting the present. However, given the near 200% fatality rate of the ritual (historically, one alchemist had not only blown himself up but also inadvertently killed a thief attempting to rob his house at the time), Victor had never considered attempting the process himself. He wouldn¡¯t even think of drinking the first batch he created. Instead, he planned to visit the faculty lounge and consult Professor Pheromone, the Alchemy instructor, to see if this world had any useful magic that could help. The Hogwarts faculty lounge was designed for professors who taught in the main castle. Slightly more comfortable than their offices, it featured several armchairs, making it a popular spot for teachers to chat between classes. As Victor pushed open the door, he overheard a conversation just as he entered¡ª "I heard Severus got bitten by Fluffy on the leg last night!" Professor Kettleburn, who had only one leg and one hand remaining, sat in an armchair, enthusiastically thumping his wooden limb against the floor as he spoke. --- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze Chapter 61: Rock-Skin Biscuits The staff lounge was a long room with wooden panels lining the walls. In the center stood a few wooden tables and wardrobes. At the moment, three or four professors were seated around the long table on the left side of the lounge. Among them was a relatively young wizard, Professor Charity Burbage of Muggle Studies, and the eldest of the group, the ever-loquacious Professor Kettleburn. This particular professor had led quite a legendary life. Silvanus Kettleburn, the Hogwarts professor of Care of Magical Creatures, had, over his tenure, been placed on probation sixty-two times and had lost one hand and 1.5 legs in the process. The wooden leg he currently wore had been a gift from Headmaster Dumbledore two years prior, supposedly in recognition of Kettleburn¡¯s recent restraint in teaching methods¡ªthough many suspected that, given he now had only one and a half limbs left, leading a calmer life was simply his only remaining option. Nonetheless, Professor Kettleburn remained as spirited as ever. ¡°¡­What? You¡¯re asking about Fluffy?¡± He glanced at the professor beside him and said, ¡°Oh, that was the three-headed dog Hagrid raised a couple of years ago. I must say, it was rather well-trained. If Albus hadn¡¯t insisted on borrowing it, Hagrid and I had planned to release it into the Forbidden Forest.¡± Kettleburn sighed dramatically, as if deeply regretful, eliciting a round of dry chuckles from the other professors. Good thing they didn¡¯t. Otherwise, the Forbidden Forest would have been completely off-limits. Their expressions made this sentiment abundantly clear. It was at this moment that Victor entered the staff lounge. Upon seeing him, Professor Kettleburn¡¯s eyes lit up, and he greeted him enthusiastically. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Professor Victor! Last time I saw you was at the Start-of-Term Feast.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. Good afternoon, Professor Kettleburn.¡± Victor nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°Oh, just call me Silvanus¡ªunless you find that harder to pronounce than my surname, in which case, call me whatever you like.¡± Kettleburn grinned. ¡°This here is Professor Erik Philemon, who teaches Alchemy, and of course, you already know Professor Burbage from Muggle Studies.¡± ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Professor Burbage smiled warmly at Victor, seeming to hold a favorable impression of him. ¡°I sat a few seats away from you at the feast and overheard some of your conversation with Quirrell. It¡¯s nice to know you also believe Muggles shouldn¡¯t be discriminated against.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Victor shook hands with her and exchanged greetings with Professor Philemon¡ªthe person he had actually come to find. However, before he could speak to Philemon, Professor Kettleburn had already pulled him over to the table, bringing him into the ongoing conversation. At the same time, Kettleburn pushed a plate of biscuits toward him. Every professor at the table had one in hand, including Philemon. Though, curiously, none of them seemed to have eaten much. The only one bearing a bite mark was Kettleburn¡¯s own. The biscuits were brown, looking somewhat hard but not necessarily unpleasant¡ªat least, the cracks on their surface seemed evenly formed. Thinking they wouldn¡¯t be too bad, Victor picked one up. Seeing him take a biscuit, Kettleburn looked pleased, as if the gesture had brought them closer, and immediately pulled him into their conversation. ¡°Victor, I heard from the students that you were with Severus last night. Do you know why Fluffy suddenly snapped at him? I thought Hagrid had trained it fairly well.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Victor shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know much,¡± he said, bringing the biscuit to his mouth. ¡°Severus went there alone. By the time we arrived, he was already down by the door on the fourth floor, but he still insisted on going with us to check on the troll¡ªseems he suspected the whole thing was intentional.¡± ¡°I see¡­ Severus really has been diligent this year.¡± Kettleburn looked like he wanted to gossip but, for some reason, restrained himself, leaving the other two professors visibly curious. But just as Victor was about to take a bite, Philemon suddenly spoke up. ¡°Oh, right¡ªjust be careful not to bite down too hard, or¡ª¡± Crack! A loud, crisp sound rang out from Victor¡¯s biscuit, akin to breaking a rock in half. The other professors froze immediately. ? Victor glanced at Philemon, who had suddenly gone stiff, and then took a bite of the biscuit¡ªchewing with complete ease, as though it were any ordinary snack. Only, as his teeth ground against the biscuit¡¯s surface, it emitted two deep, crunching sounds. It was the kind of noise one would expect to hear when bones were being crushed to powder. The other professors stared blankly as Victor finished his bite, their eyes flickering to the biscuit in his hand, which now bore a sizable missing chunk¡ªnearly a third of its original size. A few seconds later¡ª ¡°You¡­ you actually swallowed that? That¡¯s one of Hagrid¡¯s Rock-Skin Biscuits!¡± Professor Kettleburn gaped at him for a solid few seconds, then shot another incredulous glance at the plate of biscuits on the table. ¡°They¡¯re called Rock-Skin Biscuits? How fitting,¡± Victor remarked calmly. ¡°The outer layer is quite crisp, and the sugar crystals inside blend well with the flour. Overall, it¡¯s not bad¡ªjust a little tough on the outside.¡± ¡°A little tough?¡± Professor Burbage raised her voice slightly. ¡°My teeth still hurt from trying one earlier¡ªit was no different from gnawing on the table!¡± ¡°You really didn¡¯t use any magic on your teeth?¡± Philemon asked. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± Victor exchanged a silent glance with the other professors, until all four of them saw the same look of confusion mirrored in each other¡¯s eyes. After a moment¡ª ¡°Hagrid is going to love you. You absolutely must visit the hunting grounds sometime.¡± Professor Kettleburn regarded Victor with newfound admiration. "But come to think of it, Viktor, you seem to be a bit picky with food every time you eat. I remember at the opening feast, you only ate things that were either extremely sour or extremely sweet. At the time, I thought maybe Albus had been a bad influence on you. But now that I think about it..." "What about it?" "Oh, nothing, of course! It''s just quite interesting," Professor Kettleburn quickly waved his hand. "I suddenly remembered¡ªmagical creatures like dragons and Veela tend to favor foods with extreme flavors. Other creatures classified at XXXXX-level show similar tendencies... During my research, I found that this might be because their sensory perception differs from that of human wizards. It¡¯s likely an innate trait caused by their magic." "You know, young wizards experience magical outbursts before they can properly use magic, but dragons are born with it. We even determine the future size of a Hungarian Horntail based on the intensity of its fire-breathing at birth." As Kettleburn spoke, he seemed to get lost in his own thoughts. After a few seconds, he chuckled and said, "Who knows? Maybe you have dragon or some other magical creature''s blood in you, Viktor." "......" Viktor didn¡¯t respond immediately. His expression remained as blank as ever. For some reason, however, Professor Burbage had the odd feeling that he seemed even colder than when he had first entered¡ª But after studying Viktor¡¯s hollow, black eyes and the pale, expressionless line of his lips, she began to think it was just her imagination. Professor Philemon couldn¡¯t help but interject with a scoff, "A dragon? That¡¯s impossible. No one would do something like that. If anything, a vampire seems like the more likely possibility." "But vampire teeth are hollow. Since they mostly consume liquids, their teeth aren¡¯t particularly strong," Professor Kettleburn said with a hearty laugh. "If a vampire bit into this rock-hard scone, their mouth would be full of blood, and they wouldn¡¯t be able to eat for half a year." "Oh¡ªapologies, Viktor. We didn¡¯t mean to imply anything¡ªit was just a joke." "It¡¯s fine," Viktor replied coolly, nodding slightly at Professor Kettleburn, looking completely unbothered. Seeing this, Kettleburn and the other two professors quickly moved on from the topic and resumed their discussion about Snape and Fluffy. Although Snape was the Potions Master, everyone knew he was exceptionally skilled in the Dark Arts, so they were all curious as to how he had gotten bitten. Their final conclusion was that Snape had held back. After all, he didn¡¯t want to kill Fluffy, nor did he want to harm it, which meant that most of the spells he was proficient in had been rendered useless. After all, was there even such a thing as a Dark Arts spell that didn¡¯t cause harm? However, throughout the conversation, Viktor remained silent, which made the professors slightly uneasy. They worried that their earlier remarks had been too careless and that Viktor might have felt offended. After all, the wizarding world wasn¡¯t particularly known for treating non-human beings with respect. Fortunately, just as their discussion was wrapping up, Viktor suddenly spoke again. "Speaking of alchemy, I actually have a question for you, Professor Philemon." "Of course, no problem!" "......But did we ever mention alchemy?" --- you can read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon.com/windkaze