A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

Before the students on the scene could focus on Dumbledore, he had left early, as abruptly as he had appeared.

Felix knew that the school was full of anti-curses, and that ordinary people couldn't Apparate in the castle, but there was no doubt - the headmaster had the privilege. However, Felix could see that Dumbledore was eager to determine the magic power that suddenly erupted in the castle this time, and borrowed the power of the phoenix.

Felix has at least two ways to do the same thing.

The first is undoubtedly the use of magical beasts' magical-like talents, and he doesn't even have to perform magical creature transformations, but converts Apparition-like talents into ancient magic, thereby avoiding the prohibition of the school castle.

The second is a bit trickier, and needs to be realized with the help of a part of the entire castle defense system - the House of Requirement. This magical room is embedded in the magic of the castle by Lady Ravenclaw. When Felix cracks part of the secret, he can gain access indirectly. . In theory, as long as the Room of Requirement responds to him, he can use that room as a stopover and jump around the castle.

The students in the office looked excited and active. Felix served them with desserts and cookies.

"There's no canary biscuits in here, right?" Fred asked guiltily.

"You reminded me," Felix said, and he waved, but nothing happened, but Fred was visibly frightened, staring at the snacks on the small square table and didn't dare to reach out.

Luna picked up a turmeric cookie, took a bite and said, "I don't think there's magic in this one." She seemed to console him, but everyone else - including Felix thought it was counterproductive, Fred. Noticeably more vigilant.

"Has Headmaster Dumbledore just been here?" Harry asked uncertainly. "I seem to have seen him."

"Come here and leave again," Felix said succinctly.

"Professor," Hermione couldn't help asking, "Why has Harry's Patronus become... completely different, is there a trick?" Others looked over, curious about the answer to the question. Harry wondered, too, and he looked at Professor Hepp too.

Felix thought for a while, and said, "I made a conjecture before that the Patronus has other uses. Some of you—" his eyes wandered among the people, "may have the same firm ideals and firmly believe in them. I will not give up, but in fact, these difficulties did not actually happen, and your 'firmness' is just an imagination."

"The difference between Potter and you is that his beliefs didn't come out of nowhere, he's been through those cruel dangers and blows—and that courage is convincing when he's still steadfast."

Everyone silently savored these words. Harry blushed a little, and he could only pretend that he was thinking, but his mind went blank.

Cedric asked: "Professor, can I understand this? 'Thinking that you can overcome difficulties' can only bring you false courage and belief, and only 'prove yourself', this courage and belief is true. The former Might as well be encouraged, but... it's like a castle in the sky."

Felix smiled and nodded at him.

"Think about how many promises we have made in this life, and how many we can fulfill." He said with emotion.

"There are very few people who have achieved great things in history. They also need to drink the bitter wine of failure, but what separates them from ordinary people is the choice after failure. God, if those people are wizards too , the patron saint is probably not too bad."

In the evening, Felix picked up a pen to write to the pen pal who was inconvenient.

Beginning with 'I have a student', he described his new discovery of the Patronus Charm eloquently. Then, turning the pen, he introduced the concept of the Deathly Hallows on the grounds of 'I have a student'.

‘… Of course I’m not laughing at you for embezzling someone else’s coat of arms, I’m just simply curious, doesn’t anyone among your followers object? As a scholar, I have to point out the risks: Although the Peverells were one of the first families to disappear, it was only the disappearance of the paternal line, and the descendants of the three brothers could be scattered somewhere. How will they feel when they see that the coat of arms of their ancestors has become the symbol of a notorious organization...'

Nurmengard Fort.

"Abominable little devil!"

When Grindelwald read the letter, half a month had passed, and it was the end of April and the beginning of May. Grindelwald's wrinkled face stared at the stationery with a weird smile: "Faith? It's not enough, you have to burn yourself."

He turned his head to look at the house-elf.

"Bundy?" said Grindelwald softly.

"G, Lord Grindelwald." The house-elf Bundy stood away from the hard bed, bowing his head humbly.

"Why are you afraid of me? Was it warned by those 'adults', how cruel it was to warn me?

Little things, you have a right to know more.

Half a century ago, a man named Dumbledore took his group of children and dismembered my huge devotee—when I was at my most complacent and ready to go. Had to fight. I lost. Being imprisoned with magic power, he lost his innate right to cast spells, and he couldn't even use a decent magic. Imprisoned for half a century. "

The house-elf's head was lowered, and its nose was almost on the ground. He couldn't remember how many times he was warned by the "Master Wizard" of the International Federation of Wizards, so he made up his mind that if the gentleman in front of him wanted him to help him escape, he would turn around and run away without waiting for him to finish speaking.

He said in a trembling voice, "Lord Wizard, if you don't need to reply, Bundy will—"

"No, no, no, Bundy," Grindelwald said softly, stopping him.

"Your master used to be my believer. When I walked in here, he was still there. Don't you want to know why you were sent here? Why did the 'adults' of the Federation acquiesce in your existence? They are eager to I'm starving."

"Your master and I got together because of a common philosophy, and I'm just... the one standing in front."

Grindelwald held out his hand, and Bundy hesitated, hesitant, but he was persuaded and moved closer. The last two hands are folded together.

Grindelwald smiled. He couldn't see his youthful appearance at all. His cheeks were small, his eyes were sunken, his teeth were almost gone, and he looked like a skeleton. He said to the trembling house-elf, "Look, isn't it easy?"

"Although I am not your master, you must have been asked to make my life as comfortable as possible? I promise you that I will not ask you more than occasionally to observe the outside world with your eyes..."

"I need you as much as I appreciate the care you have taken for me so long."

"Now, I want you to show me some magic. I've done better, but now I can only take solace in your spellcasting."

Bundy was relieved that he complied with the request. Started doing everything he could, conjuring up all the dazzling tricks he knew. Then he was panting, and Grindelwald thanked him, "If I have a chance to see it later, I will be very grateful."

The house-elf bowed and left.

There was only one person left in the cell-like cell.

Grindelwald looked up and stared at the window—a window, or was it just a narrow gap between the black stones? The mountain wind whistled at night, casting strange shadows one by one.

He was very familiar with everything here, and even remembered the "For the Greater Good" engraved on the entrance, which he left behind himself. The word 'Nurmengard' was also the name of the prison he built for his opponents.

But ironically, after his defeat, he was not executed, but imprisoned here.

Now he is the only one left alive.

His cell was at the top of this dark, eerie fortress, in the tower. Outside is the unchanging landscape.

To be honest, he was a little tired.

Especially when there is a little **** outside, no matter what information he uses to hook him.

After an unknown amount of time, Grindelwald regained his senses. He opened his palms and stared at the dozen or so thin magical powers in his palms. They were like swimming fish, swimming in the palm-sized place.

It wasn't his own magic, but the magic of house-elves that he had just collected.

...

The graveyard in the village of Little Hangleton is deserted, with traces of the battle still lingering. The Ministry of Magic sent someone to repair it afterwards, but it could not be fully restored to its original state. The incident became yet another bizarre story among the village residents.

"Probably a beast—"

"Bullshit! I guess it has something to do with the death of the Riddle family. They spent more than ten years turning into ghosts and successfully avenged their enemies." Dot said in the Hanged Man tavern, with one leg crossed and his head tilted to one side— Like every time he got drunk, the smell of alcohol came out of his mouth.

"You mean the dead gardener, Frank Bryce?" someone whispered.

"Who else isn't he? Thanks to the police station's wine bag and rice bag, he was acquitted and lived so many more years. Think about it, the three Riddle family died so strangely back then? If you want me to say, it is retribution. already."

"What kind of ghosts are there?" The bar waiter disliked him and retorted: "Pay for your wine!"

Dott said twice, "Don't interrupt!" He turned his head to the other side, pretending to be mysterious: "I really have evidence, I went to the cemetery behind the church to see, the tomb of Riddle's son - was Pryed open."

"real or fake?"

Someone booed: "You didn't make it up, did you? Why don't you go take a look now?"

"You can't see it," Dort said regretfully. "It's been fixed there."

Just as they were talking, someone had come to the cemetery behind the church by night.

With a frenzied expression on Bellatrix Lestrange's face, he drank the bowl of potion in his hand.

"Owner--"

"Go to sleep, my dear Bella," said Voldemort. "I will wake you before the final battle."

Bellatrix fell into a deep sleep, and the madness on her face became calm. She lay quietly in the coffin, her hands clasped in her lower abdomen, and a gold cup was tightly clasped in her hands. Voldemort waved his wand, the lid of the coffin closed, and the dense alchemy symbols were illuminated one by one.

Voldemort waved his wand and buried the coffin in the pit, covering it with thick mud.

For the rest of the time, he will stay here until the day of the duel. He was waiting, and if no one bothered him during this time, he could take a risk and temporarily separate from his Horcrux to fight Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was getting weaker, he could see it.

The good news completely outweighed the humiliation that Malfoy's traitor had brought him.

He knew how powerful his curse was, "using the aftereffects of removing the curse as an excuse." Voldemort sneered twice, very satisfied with the results of Severus' work.

He deliberately chose the date of the duel during the .ls exam, when all the professors would be in the school, not to mention Severus, and if Hep disappeared, he would get the news right away.

But is Severus alone insured...

Voldemort's mind raced with all kinds of thoughts. From every angle, he was a loyal Death Eater, perfectly executing his orders. But Voldemort never trusted anyone, just as he never told any Death Eater the secrets of the Horcrux.

Maybe he should have done a little more preparation...how about having those wizards' examiners serving as eyes and ears? With Imperius? No, there's an anti-thief waterfall, and he has to find a smarter way. He doesn't need help, as long as he can make sure that Felix Hepper is always at the school.

And the Ministry of Magic Aurors...

Voldemort began to ponder the tricks of various evil ghosts.

...

After school starts, especially after the first week of career counseling, there is only one thing left for fifth graders.

That is exam preparation.

Felix could see almost to the naked eye that the students were becoming more self-conscious and working harder. The reason is not difficult to understand. After the employment consultation, each student has one or two goals under the advice of their respective deans.

What's more, the professors of almost every subject are explicit or implicit about how important their subject is.

I don't know when, the simplified process of potion preparation began to circulate in the school. At first, the little wizards didn't believe it. According to the practice of previous years, the popular things at this time should be amulets, Bafei brain-boosting potions, and dragon claw powder.

But facts speak louder than words, and a series of startling coincidences have emerged.

Neville Longbottom, who was originally in the middle and lower reaches of the potions class, has suddenly emerged, and even Harry and Ron, who have average grades, have also performed well. This abnormal behavior naturally attracted the attention of students and a certain professor. In class, he stared behind several people like a ghost.

Harry's forehead was sweating, he hadn't done anything for ten minutes, and the daisy roots were about to be chopped by him.

When Snape disappeared, he immediately opened the potions textbook, which contained a piece of parchment with the title 'Energizing Tonic'. The writing on it was densely written ~www.readwn.com~ but Harry knew that this potion could actually be divided into seven major steps and three stages.

He quickly read the content of the fifth step, which was similar to the outline: 'Enhancing the effect of salamander blood. ' He then looked down. The original teaching material was very complicated, and it took five steps. The new improved method is very brief: 'Filter out the residue, stir twice counterclockwise, stir twice clockwise, and slowly inject magic power. . ’

Harry grinned, almost like a combination of Professor Hepp and the Half-Blood Prince.

He uttered a spell gently, and a piece of parchment on the table quickly deformed into a strainer. He scooped it twice, then stirred it clockwise and counterclockwise twice, and injected magic power, the color of the potion has changed. became light blue.

Harry looked around, not many people had made the same progress as him.

He bowed his head excitedly and continued to read the following, when—

"Potter," Snape said in a cold voice, and Harry almost jumped out of his seat.

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