A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

"Reality is far more complex. If your mastery of magic is strong enough, and you're intent on concealing it… you can completely alter the frequency of your magic," Felix spoke with an elusive tone. "But it must be admitted, this process is difficult… extremely difficult…"

This is why Felix could craft personalized wands. These wands could only recognize specific magic. Others attempting to replicate it was pure chance; attempting thousands of times would yield no results.

Lupin glanced at Felix, sensing a slyness in his smile. Lowering his head, he continued perusing the plan. "Yesterday, Sirius took Harry to Godric's Hollow," he mentioned as he read.

"Encountered any trouble?" Felix asked, his reference to trouble indicating Voldemort, as no one knew where he was hiding.

"No, they went and returned quickly, didn't stay too long," Lupin smiled. "Although Harry did get an earful from Molly, but I believe it was a lesson he needed… Should we not rush this plan?"

Felix nodded slightly. "Start with those settled in the magical world, no need to draw too much attention."

Lupin pondered for a moment. "Felix, you needn't solely focus on Squibs like Filch; some wizards… their spellcasting abilities are actually quite terrible."

"You mean—"

"We could advertise in the newspapers, offer distance courses like 'Rapid Spellcasting,'" Lupin reminisced, "I managed for a while on that job; it was a relaxed time, writing letters daily, occasional visitors. That's where I honed my teaching skills… Shame it didn't last."

The conversation halted abruptly; Felix suspected the upcoming content wouldn't be pleasant.

Lupin retrieved a quill, tilting his head to craft an advertisement, his earnestness dissuading Felix from interruption. He wandered around Lupin's office, analyzing their approach to Squibs.

As per Felix's anticipation, once everything settled, there would undoubtedly be substantial interaction between both sides. Yet, this exchange wouldn't be entirely open or unrestricted; it wouldn't involve wizards swarming the skies.

This is when there'd be a need for individuals navigating both wizard and Muggle societies.

It'd be ideal if they had connections with both sides, serving as bridges, although bridges differed. In Felix's mind, wizards from Muggle backgrounds—including pure-bloods willing to embark on a new magical journey—represented the future backbone of the wizarding world. However, they'd likely stay in the magical realm ultimately.

They weren't quite feasible as direct windows to showcase the magical world to the outside. That would be a waste.

But especially during the initial phase, there was a need for 'exchange windows for both sides.' Felix considered alternatives, focusing on Squibs and the relatives of wizards from Muggle backgrounds. These people knew of magic's existence early, occasionally experiencing its wonders themselves. At least, most parents of young wizards had experiences of buying books in Diagon Alley with their children.

Allowing them to study magic wasn't practical, but the new era would birth many new professions, quite fitting for them.

Felix imagined: firstly, guides were essential. They'd lead wizards to technology museums, regular museums… or guide ordinary people on day trips to the magical world. Then, there were the writers of the new era, presenting the wizarding world from the perspective of regular people—or Squibs' perspectives, or wizards' relatives—unveiling the mysteries of magic.

The benefits were evident: unfamiliarity bred suspicion; understanding eradicated barriers.

Of course, there were also magical merchants. Potions, food, moving portraits… someone had to manage these. It was a hassle for wizards to engage in business dealings, given their lifelong confusion between galleons, sickles, and knuts. But if the parents of young wizards were willing, Felix welcomed it. He saw potential in Justin Finch-Fletchley's parents, whom he had previously encountered…

Felix's only concern was Filch's attitude. He could intuit the conflicting desires for yearning and resentment from Filch: for him, who ruled the magical world or how many wizards died in wars didn't matter; the more deaths, the better.

The only ones Filch remembered were those who helped him, like Mrs. Idris Oakby. Felix wasn't sure if he was one of them.

Filch reflected the mindset of this fringe group. Of course, others might not be as extreme as him.

Most times, once a child from a wizarding family cemented their Squib status, they were sent to Muggle schools early on (Filch missed out due to the war), and these individuals rarely tangled with the wizarding world when grown up. Just like Mafalda's father—he married and had children just like regular people, and if his daughter wasn't a wizard, he'd have pretended the magical world didn't exist.

So, Filch was an exception, a relatively extreme one. After all, not all Squibs had the chance to open their eyes and witness hundreds of students frolicking before them.

...

Felix casually picked up a book titled "Werewolf Behavior" from the desk; it was evident Lupin had been reading it frequently, the corners worn. He flipped through it, the pages auto-fixing at a certain page. "Don't, Felix!" Lupin panicked, reaching out to grab it, accidentally sending the book flying from Felix's hand due to his force.

A photograph fell from the tumbling book, twirling and landing on the ground. The woman with eye-catching pink short hair in the picture mischievously winked at him.

Felix paused. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see anything." He turned away, expecting a growl, but fortunately, Lupin didn't rush over to bite him. After a dozen seconds, he turned back; Lupin had tidied up, now sitting breathlessly in the chair.

"Don't speak of this," Lupin buried his face in his hands, voice hoarse.

"I think Tonks is—"

"Don't mention it!" Lupin urgently interrupted, his chest heaving.

Felix dropped the jesting expression, silently nodding. Everyone has their knots... Stepping out of the stronghold, Felix fetched a communication mirror. "Hand over Greyback to me."

A disguised sharp voice from the other side replied, "Oh… he's hiding deep, and probably not in England right now…"

"You're not in England either, are you?" Felix lazily remarked.

"I'm not mingling with him! That guy might be hiding in some cave in a small country! Accompanied by a bunch of werewolves!" The person sounded irritated.

"Reconciliation requires sincerity, remember? You approached me first," Felix reminded.

There was intense panting through the mirror, seemingly containing his anger. Felix waited for a while, calmly saying, "Hand him over, I don't care how, do it, and our grudge is settled. Remembering your name is exhausting, Mr. Shafiq."

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