A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 588: Events Brewing

When Felix returned to his office, he was surprised to find a row of owls perched by the window.

"Oh, right, Easter. I forgot to leave it open," he mumbled, a little late in realization.

He opened the window, and Valen, just emerging from Felix's silver pocket watch, watched in wonder as a bunch of owls swooped into the office. They circled around, dropping packages at their feet while chirping indignantly, clearly displeased with the long wait.

Valen climbed up Felix's leg and settled on his shoulder, peering down at the packages strewn on the floor.

Felix remembered the Easter candy eggs he received last year, untouched for a whole year. But regardless, receiving gifts was something to be happy about. Plus, it meant he could play Exploding Snap with Valen and whoever won got to unwrap a gift.

The next morning, as he entered the Great Hall, unsurprisingly, students were deeply engrossed in the newspapers.

"Malfoy..." murmured a student, exchanging glances with others.

Scanning the room, he didn't spot Draco. He sat down to have breakfast, knowing he had to rush to the Ministry afterward for ongoing trials. The process would continue until the end of the Easter break, and Felix suddenly felt an urge to skip classes.

But even after finishing the last bite of his potato, he couldn't think of a proper excuse. The Instant Skip-Class Fudge developed by Fred and George didn't work well for him. And faking an illness... well, that was just not his style.

In the end, he reluctantly made his way to the Ministry.

---

Meanwhile...

"Incredible, I still can't wrap my head around it," Harry murmured, pretending to wrestle with a tough piece of bone. Ron and Hermione leaned in to listen as he whispered, "How could Malfoy... be a spy?"

He glanced towards the Slytherin table where Draco, wearing an expressionless face, was poking at an apple pie with his fork. There were two empty seats between him and the nearest Slytherin student.

"It's Pansy Parkinson," Hermione whispered, observing from afar. "She seems unsure how to handle this complicated situation."

She was spot on. When Draco's gaze swept past them, Pansy immediately turned her head and began talking to the student beside her.

"Oh? That's quite hurtful, though it did catch me off guard," Ron admitted, his conflicted expression revealing his sincerity. "I almost thought it was April Fools' Day today, but Fred and George's birthdays passed a few days ago. I regret getting them those silly hats," he winced, "cost me five Galleons in total."

"What's that?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"The Silly Hats?" Ron eagerly introduced, "One of Zonko's new products. I saw an advertisement in one of Fred's books. It said when you wear it, your face can transform between a vampire, a werewolf, and a banshee, with added cute fangs, fluffy manes, and whatnot."

"Sounds a bit like the 'Future World' Emerald Crown," Hermione interjected. "One changes faces, the other changes clothes."

Ron shrugged. "Fred claims Zonko got inspiration from the Anti-Hex Hat and feels he's been outsmarted. But I find it amusing."

"Isn't it Professor Snape's birthday soon?" Harry said. "I remember it's on the 15th?"

"8th, we got it wrong last time," Hermione corrected.

"That's today then?" Ron exclaimed. "Fred and George mentioned wanting to pull off something big," he chuckled, "oh, I have to keep this secret, none of you spill to them..."

Later on, they sent Ron's owl Pig with a package flying out from the owlery.

"It looks a bit strained," Hermione fretted, watching the sky.

"No choice, Hedwig doesn't want to go near that professor anymore; she feels embarrassed," Harry sighed.

They watched Pig wobble in the air, swinging like a pendulum, finally managing a turn and disappearing from view. But they knew, just past a few towers, if Pig didn't unfortunately collide with any pillars, it would fly into the Ancient Runes professor's office.

"Do you think the professor will like that telescope?" Ron asked, not waiting for an answer as he rambled on. "I was thinking of getting a pet rat to keep Valen company. Honestly, they look quite alike... but time was short. That telescope is a test piece George asked me to try, must be a new product, but I never got around to it... Hermione, what did you get?"

"A potted plant," Hermione replied.

"That's a good idea; I should jot that down," Ron's eyes sparkled.

Harry stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the azure sky, his thoughts drifting away with the owl. He had a wild idea; he felt crazy but couldn't stop himself. Snape's birthday... when was it? Maybe... but he quickly brushed the notion away. Come on, he told himself, even if Snape was undercover, it wasn't that extraordinary.

Well, it kind of was, Harry reluctantly admitted. He couldn't shake the scene of himself facing Voldemort. He wasn't scared of Voldemort, but the idea of having a casual chat, being friendly with him... it gave Harry goosebumps.

He hadn't seen Snape at the graveyard. Perhaps Snape was hiding or arrived late?

Harry recalled Voldemort's speech that night to the Death Eaters. He didn't hear all of it, but he remembered the beginning; Voldemort lamented his rebirth and then issued threats to the Death Eaters.

"There's one who lacks the courage to return... he'll pay the price. Another, I believe, has permanently left me... of course, he'll be executed..."

Thinking back, the former might refer to Karkaroff, the latter to Snape.

Yet here was Snape, alive and well, and Harry had no idea how he managed it.

He couldn't help but imagine Snape facing Voldemort, but with no reference, his mind drew a blank. Snape, in his memory, either taught with his peculiar slow-paced, dragging voice, ridiculing students; or appeared suddenly, openly mocking Harry's poorly brewed potion in front of the class, awarding low marks... but neither of those attitudes seemed suitable for facing Voldemort.

Maybe like the other Death Eaters, Harry thought, recalling the nauseating image of the Death Eaters bowing before Voldemort. He'd rather Snape showed some backbone.

As they emerged from the owlery, they couldn't resist discussing the Malfoy family again. Ron mentioned Draco Malfoy's grandfather, "Quite a formidable character."

"Was he a Death Eater too?" Harry inquired.

"No one knows," Ron said, but then lowered his voice, looking mysteriously pleased, "My dad mentioned he might have been one of the early backers of the Mysterious Man." He seemed delighted to see Harry and Hermione gaping.

"But he was never caught in any wrongdoing, died looking all respectable," Ron added, "Compared to him, his son Lucius Malfoy seems not too bright, I mean, intellectually speaking."

Harry chuckled.

"Let me think," Ron began counting on his fingers, "After the first war, claimed he got hit by the Killing Curse, became a piggy bank for the Dark

Lord, lost the board seat in our second year, oh, right—also, Dobby! Kneeling in front of Voldemort confessing his mistakes half a year ago, now hiding somewhere—yeah, I get what you mean."

They bantered on, finding little sympathy for the Malfoys, who had always been at odds with them. But as they walked into the common room, they suddenly realized Malfoy was now on their side.

"I'd rather he remained a Death Eater—"

"Oh, don't be silly."

They settled at a table, pulling out textbooks. Clearly, the professors didn't plan for students to have a comfortable holiday; they'd left heaps of assignments. This led to a fair number of fifth-year students, unwilling to return home, sighing heavily and battling yawns while catching up on their work.

Ron, pulling out parchment and a quill from his bag, grumbled, "Those lower-year students are too noisy. I really want to dock points from them." But as each subject's assignment piled up in front of him, his vigor visibly dissipated.

Harry leaned on the table, idly tapping Hermione's study timetable, gifted by her yesterday, with his wand. Each task for every subject was meticulously outlined. "I added a countdown," Hermione gleefully said, "right on the top left corner."

Harry stared at the number '59' on the parchment, an urge suddenly surging to tear it off.

"What do you think, how did Lucius Malfoy manage to get on good terms with Professor Snape?" he couldn't help but ask.

Hermione pushed the newspaper towards him. Ron, with disdain, said, "You believe that? 'Confessions'—oh, come on, how is that even possible? I'd say he probably got caught doing something illegal, and the professor stumbled upon it, then he begged the professor to let him off..." Hermione shot him a glare.

"Ahem, I mean, well done."

"Death Eaters are a complex lot," Hermione tried to sort her thoughts, "There are the ambitious ones, the inherently cruel ones, those looking to gain some glory by tagging along," she paused, then added, "And a small few who were lured by the Mysterious Man's sinister ideas..."

Harry remembered Sirius's brother Regulus.

"…When the mysterious people were in their prime, it was hard to tell them apart, but once they faltered," Hermione sneered, pointing to a picture of Selwyn on the newspaper, "we can see their true colors."

Laughter echoed in the common room, heads turning—Harry and Ron eager for some news—seeing Fred and George each holding colorful hats, they put them on amid the cheering crowd. Gasps and laughter erupted as they paraded around, finally turning towards Harry's direction, revealing their faces.

Harry was startled, almost mistaking them for a combination of a vampire and a female ghost (?). Fred's face was as pale as paper, sunken cheeks hinting at malnutrition, his eyes unnaturally bloodshot, but the most striking were his deliberately pointed teeth; George had a different horrifying look—his hair turned black, trailing to the ground, his face resembling a skull, emitting a greenish glow even more frightening than the nearby vampires.

The two erupted in mischievous laughter.

After a while, the crowd dispersed, Fred and George approached, taking a seat nearby. They still sported those strange faces, Ron instinctively leaning away, Fred and George grinning.

"Don't fancy our new looks?"

"Fine by us. Seems like you two quite liked these hats," Ron retorted sarcastically, "Who was complaining earlier?"

"That's different," Fred said earnestly, "We thought these hats were timely."

"Yeah, they'll brighten up Professor Snape's birthday party…" George cheerfully added.

The three exchanged looks, Ron nudging Harry and Hermione, reminding them not to spill the beans, Fred and George looked at them strangely.

"Is there something we don't know?"

"Nothing," Ron said, shifting the topic awkwardly, "Did you hear? The 'New Interpretations of Magic' is preparing an ancient magical yearbook, open for submissions."

"That's quite an event," Fred exclaimed, removing his hat, the pointed teeth and pale cheeks vanishing, "What sections are you aiming for?"

"What about you?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Occupational trends," Fred said without hesitation, "We've invented a new profession, the 'Pranksters', George and I together. It requires a lot: ancient runes, basic alchemy, transfiguration, charms, and a wildly imaginative mind—"

"And a rebellious heart," George added half-jokingly.

"Sounds a bit like self-promotion," mumbled Ron.

"Have you tried that Boxing Telescope?" Fred suddenly asked, eyeing his brother's face.

"Not yet, erm—I gave it away," Ron tried to evade, but under Fred's direct gaze, he had to tell the truth.

"Gave it away? To whom?" Fred and George exclaimed in unison.

"Boxing Telescope? Boxing?" Harry caught on the keywords.

Ron suddenly looked terrified.

Fred and George stared at his expression, laughing, "Alright, we won't ask," Fred said generously.

"You'll find out in the end," George added.

"Quickly, tell me—about that thing—Merlin's Beard! What's it for?" Ron demanded, "What's the use of that thing?"

But Fred and George just looked at him with pity, as if he were doomed… making Ron more anxious. He just wanted to run to the professor's office, retrieve the gift, and exchange it, but the image of Crabbe and Goyle's unfortunate state stopped him.

"Speak up! You!" he yelled.

Ron lunged, vigorously shaking Fred's collar, Fred stubbornly not giving in, enjoying the show.

"Will they really acknowledge this name?" when it quieted down, Hermione asked, "I heard the reviewers are quite old—except for Professor Snape."

"Can't hurt to try," George said eagerly, "I've gathered they're desperate for talent, expanding their ranks aggressively! It also says, 'Once the profession gains official recognition, it'll not only be listed in the Ministry of Magic's occupations but will also receive various support.'"

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"—After the war ends," Hermione said.

"What?" Fred asked.

"That's true of what you said, but it'll only happen after the war," Hermione whispered.

"Why haven't I seen this?" Fred and George exclaimed, shouting in unison.

"It's in the recent issue's back pages of 'New Interpretations of Magic,'" Hermione said. The two couldn't stay put, hurrying away. Once they were gone, Harry and Ron exchanged glances, Harry uncertainly saying, "Pranksters? Sounds intriguing. But will there really be room for such a profession in the future?"

He had been studying various career brochures sent by the school lately. Even though he saw himself as an Auror in the future, he enjoyed reading about other job requirements, discussing them with dorm mates late into the night.

"If pranks can be recognized, why can't I create my own profession?" Ron grumbled discontentedly.

"Does that mean you have an idea?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

Ron was taken aback, and Harry knew he was speaking without thinking, quickly asking, "Hermione, do you know how to make the Number Nine Protective Necklet?"

"It requires 'Fire' runes and 'Protection' runes," Hermione replied instinctively, "You have to combine them, essentially two circuits. When they act simultaneously, they absorb surrounding flames and then release them all at once."

"Doesn't sound very useful," Harry said, "Many spells can achieve similar effects."

"You can give it to children," Hermione said, "And if you plan on studying fire magic, it's quite handy. It buys you a second or two against intense fires—though it breaks after one use."

They started on their homework, but soon enough, Harry started feeling drowsy. He struggled to focus on the History of Magic textbook, Ilfracombe incident, Ilfracombe… Is that a person's name or a place? Ah, who cares? Harry yawned, copying the name onto parchment.

His mind began to wander, thinking about the gathering with Sirius later in the evening, and Kreacher, wondering if he was getting used to the kitchen…

Meanwhile, Felix sat listlessly in the courtroom, staring at a black wizard whose skin reflected light.

Where does Voldemort find these people from?

Lucius's words from yesterday lingered in Felix's mind, making him want to visit Malfoy Manor, just to see if it had been reduced to ruins—just to prove that Voldemort read the newspaper and was infuriated.

"Bang!" the gavel slammed down.

"Papastaso Bwashi Von Braun Papadopoulos Marafeye Alvis, guilty as charged!"

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