A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 429: Store Number Seven

On the eve of the school term starting, the lingering festive air of Christmas hadn't yet dissipated in Diagon Alley; it was draped in shimmering silver attire.

This year, Diagon Alley bore significant differences from the past—most shop fronts displayed Christmas gift lights courtesy of the "Future World" company. As dusk approached, just before the last hint of twilight vanished from the sky, these magical lights came to life, illuminating a small portion of the street. freewebnσvel.cøm

Exiting the upright castle, Alrick and Clementine, dressed in only light clothing, seemed impervious to the biting chill.

Clementine adjusted the temperature control pendant, stashing it away in her pocket, and observed the male and female wizards on the street. Reflecting on the changes, she remarked, "In less than half a year, Diagon Alley has seen quite the transformation."

Alrick empathized, "Indeed... do you recall the book signing at the Leaky Cauldron on New Year's Day? Rita Skeeter purchased two magical phonographs, and the shadow of the eccentric sister duo loitered at the bookstore's entrance until the event concluded. It was like witnessing a live performance..."

Clementine blinked, recalling the scene vividly. That journalist had remarkable audacity, weaving the ancient Black family members into her narrative. But more striking was her reference to the Dark Lord.

Some passages in the book still made her blush:

"'...that wizard-like figure possessed an extraordinary charisma that transcended gender, captivating even the ancient and pure-blooded descendants, compelling them to genuflect at his feet, fervently kissing the ground he trod upon. Even the slightest chance—of dining with this cold, imperious sorcerer or receiving a kiss upon the back of their hand—our protagonist in this tale would willingly brave anything...'

Pure-blooded descendants would never forget the night when the Dark Lord personally summoned his loyal servants. His elongated fingers, akin to hot embers, brushed across their cheeks, whispering an irrefutable command: 'My disciple, I need you... I need you to do something for me...'

Although not explicitly named, anyone with insight could deduce the identities of the two protagonists in the story.

"What's wrong?" Alrick inquired, observing Clementine suddenly blushing, curious about her reaction.

"N-Nothing," Clementine stammered, her face flushed crimson.

...

On a bustling street in central London, two unfamiliar men stood in front of a tastefully decorated shop.

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Adjacent to a stationery store, the proprietress observed the strangers without suspicion, finding the neighboring shop quite peculiar—

Despite living in London for decades, she had only heard of the name "Future World" a few months prior.

"Strange, why would a jewelry store be called that?" she pondered indignantly. "Isn't vintage style in vogue now? Is this some new trend from Paris?"

Another oddity: the signboard read 'Store Number Seven' in gilt letters at the bottom right corner, which was utterly absurd. Even though the clerks insisted other branches were established overseas, she remained unconvinced.

Pondering this, she openly scrutinized the two figures at the intersection. One appeared young yet composed, possibly from an affluent background? The other, an older man, seemed to carry a plethora of stories. She wouldn't mind inviting him for a small glass of brandy, listening to tales of heartache...

Meanwhile, Felix and Lupin remained oblivious to being the subject of others' scrutiny, concluding their impromptu conversation:

"She's terrified now. Just finished the book signing, and the Ministry issued a warrant for Bartemius Crouch Jr. the next day. Even though Fudge suppresses acknowledging Voldemort's existence, mere phrases like 'mysterious person, staunch follower, extremely dangerous' are enough to keep her up at night—and Sirius has been itching to confront her. Her skirting around the truth won't convince him."

Felix smirked, having skimmed through Rita Skeeter's latest book, feeling tainted by it. He remarked to Lupin, "Let's not bother with her."

Lupin wore a perfectly puzzled expression. "You're going to make her wait for nearly two months? She'll go insane." That time would coincide with the second event of the tournament, when the gates of Hogwarts would open for select audiences and journalists.

Amused, Felix said, "Don't forget our journalist friend has a special talent."

Lupin's heart skipped a beat, hastily asking, "Legilimency?"

Felix nodded slightly.

Rita Skeeter had once been an illegal Legilimens. Although she had patched that hole by registering with the Ministry, she had exposed herself, becoming a considerably unwelcome figure.

Reliable sources claimed during that period, potions to rid oneself of beetles were flying off the shelves.

"Do you want her to help you with something?" Lupin asked in a grave tone, feeling uncomfortable. He despised dealing with Rita Skeeter, someone who fabricated tales as easily as breathing. Yet, he couldn't convince himself to watch her stumble into a death trap.

Felix glanced at Lupin, seeing through his thoughts. After all, Sirius once mentioned that what attracted him and James to Lupin was his innate kindness—nobody would refuse such a friend.

Felix reminded, "You seem to be in some moral quandary, but the fact remains—we haven't done anything."

"Yeah," Lupin sighed softly. "Just because we haven't done anything..."

Exiting the seventh store, darkness veiled the sky. Felix and Lupin parted ways. Felix felt content with everything, especially nearing the completion of his Grimoire of Magic. His mood was unusually pleasant.

Rarely strolling through the London streets, he found himself in a secluded alleyway. A figure, its dark hair tousled, staggered under the dim lights.

"A vagrant? An addict?"

Felix moved slightly away, but the man approached him directly. A sense of absurdity surged within Felix. "Could this be a mugging?" Instead of leaving, curiosity held him in place, studying the man.

The man, frail as a reed, slid his hand into his pocket. Felix, angling himself defensively, enchanted a body armor spell, "Do you need a doctor?" he asked slowly.

"I do need some 'medicine'," the man licked his yellowed teeth and pulled out a folded leaflet, offering it to Felix, wearing an odd smile. Then he departed, seeking his next target.

Felix glanced at the contents on the leaflet, finding it utterly preposterous—

"Do you believe in magic? Do you believe in mystery? In this world, unknown realms exist, worlds completely separate from science. If you often feel dazed, disoriented, or wake up unsure of your surroundings (this part was emphasized)... friend, you're likely destined to belong to the hidden world.

"Welcome to join us; we offer thoughtful guidance and fulfill one wish—perhaps you urgently need to reverse your misfortune, or are desperate to witness the true perspective; or maybe you suffer from an incurable illness, feeling life has lost its hope..."

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