A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

"Today is the practical class," Felix announced from the podium. With a wave of his hand, hundreds of wooden jars appeared in the air, floating around. Then, with another wave, the space in the classroom began to expand in all directions, widening into a space half the size of an auditorium in the blink of an eye.

Excited whispers and exchanges passed between the students as they observed the transformation.

Next, a large, ancient-looking book appeared in Felix's hands. He flipped open the first page, and a tide of brilliantly colored ancient runes surged out of the book. Each rune was about half an inch in size, resembling small flying creatures entwined together, forming a sprawling scroll-like pattern—a magnificent tapestry woven not with thread, but with magical runes.

Felix and the students silently surveyed the wall of runes surrounding them, resembling a wall, then Felix spoke again, "Some of these runes are special. They don't integrate well with the surrounding characters. Your task is to pick them out—testing your eyesight and technique, as any mishap could disrupt the nearby structures... Each successfully extracted rune earns one point. You can use the chestnut jars to store the additional runes you pick out. The final score will depend on the length of your assignment today. Let's begin."

"Oh, and one more thing, no wands allowed. This will be the rule for all practical classes from now on."

The students began to approach the jars, selecting their desired ones. Felix himself sat back in a comfortable chair, recalling the academic conference that had just ended.

Many people attended from all over the world. As per the original plan, the evening's event was akin to a reception, providing an opportunity for networking and mingling, as many people's impressions of each other were based solely on the names of academic journals and content, not on personal encounters.

Therefore, someone had to act as a sort of host, and Felix's ideal candidate for this role was naturally Professor Slughorn. The old professor was in his element, his smile never leaving his face throughout the entire event.

They lingered in front of the huge display. They couldn't understand the content of the discussions or discern the significance of the ancient runic sequences magically solidified by Felix, but each time they heard the experts' exclamations, their convictions wavered slightly.

Finally, they spotted their daughter by a spacious column. Next to her, Neville looked calm, but inwardly, he was ecstatic. He remembered Felix's promises, akin to vows: with the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, new theories would abound, and the plight of werewolves would improve.

To some extent, all these promises had come true. In just two years, improved formulas for the Wolfsbane Potion had emerged, significantly reducing costs. The Ministry of Magic had also legislated that registered werewolves could enjoy discounts when purchasing the potion.

Consequently, a considerable number of werewolves chose neutrality during the war.

But all of this paled in comparison to the news Neville had heard earlier tonight, which filled him with excitement. Neville had already learned of the two solutions Felix had proposed—the ancient magic capable of controlling lycanthropy, and the advanced human transfiguration that would alter internal body structures. He had hope for both methods, and the latter could even allow him to briefly become a true human, meaning he could have an incredibly healthy child.

God only knew how ecstatic he was upon hearing this news.

In fact, the symptoms of lycanthropy were not always hereditary, but for Neville, it felt like waiting for divine judgment. Tormented by his werewolf identity for decades, he couldn't bear this uncertainty.

There was also an episode during the banquet.

Lucius Malfoy and his wife made a grand entrance, dressed in finery, and pledged to generously donate fifty thousand Galleons to the noble cause. This attracted many people, especially those settled abroad and less politically sensitive, who gathered around to listen to Lucius expound on his son Draco's "therapist dream."

This had quite an effect.

"The newspapers said," Hermione cautiously examined the glowing piece of parchment in front of her, the pieces of which were tightly fitted together like bricks, as she spoke, "over two hundred people attended, experts in the fields of potion-making, healing, and alchemy, as well as officials from different countries' Ministries of Magic."

She pressed her right hand against the wall of runes and deftly removed a glowing ancient rune.

"What a grand event," Harry exclaimed in admiration.

"But it's strange that Professor Slughorn was the host," Hermione remarked.

"Not surprising," Ron interjected, seeing Harry successfully extract a glowing ancient rune and eagerly reaching out for another, "we all know he's good at this. Just think about who could deliver a heartfelt eulogy in the face of a giant, menacing spider corpse? Oh, wait."

He groaned, attempting to put the extracted ancient rune back, but it was too late, and in front of him, more than a dozen runes began to flicker with dangerous red light.

"Boom!"

Ron was engulfed in black smoke, coughing as he covered his mouth. Harry and Hermione quickly moved aside, nearly pushing Neville against the wall. "Sorry, Neville!" Harry apologized profusely to Neville, who was rubbing his chin, tears in his eyes. "It's okay."

Ernie, who was nearby, completely ignored the small accident, muttering to himself, "Justin got six points. I don't want to lose to him."

As the smoke cleared, Ron grumbled to Harry and Hermione, "You guys ran so fast. I almost sprayed out the Mandrake leaves. Hermione, you should have reminded me."

"You chose the right target, but your technique was off," Hermione pointed out his mistake, then with a flick of her finger, deftly removed a rune from the wall and handed it to him.

"Like this, stabilize the surrounding connection points with your own magic. We only need to pick out the characters that look discordant, so it should be easier."

"I know," Ron said weakly, "my attention was diverted. We shouldn't have talked about Slughorn; it would have been better to think about—" He paused, gritting his teeth as he extracted another ancient rune.

At the same time, the word "Blood Bond" escaped Harry's lips.

Hermione gasped, her finger trembling, as a concrete symbol materialized from pure magical energy, dispersing like smoke. "Be careful!" she exclaimed nervously, conjuring a glowing ancient rune from her fingertips to slot it back in. The three of them cautiously watched the wall for a moment, until the red light stopped flickering, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

"This game is quite thrilling," Ron remarked impartially, feeling much better.

Hermione glanced around, noticing the commotion caused by Michael MacLagan's actions, and took the opportunity to lower her voice, "I think it's best not to talk about it, especially when it involves that person." She wore an incredulous expression, as if she were about to scream at any moment, but she fought to suppress it.

"It's incredible, I mean, the headmaster and..." Harry fell silent, extracting one glowing rune after another from the wall. These were the contents he had seen from last week's pensieve meditation

, and at this point, he couldn't hide it anymore. He was deeply entrenched in it and urgently needed someone to discuss it with. Among the people he trusted most in school were undoubtedly Ron and Hermione.

During the last class, Harry had seen entirely new, groundbreaking memories.

A young Aberforth was making preparations for his graduation trip, but tragedy struck in an instant. His mother tragically died due to Ariana's uncontrollable magic, forcing him to return home to take care of his siblings. Harry witnessed his agony and frustration throughout, and for the first time, he blamed Aberforth for his impatience. The people in the memories, of course, couldn't refute, but the owner of the memories could, though Dumbledore tacitly accepted it all.

This made Harry feel somewhat regretful. Looking at it from the other side, if he had to continue staying with the Dursleys as an adult, he would definitely go crazy. But they were still his family, weren't they? But when he saw Aberforth form a friendship with a young man, Harry genuinely felt happy for him.

Until he heard that name.

"Hello, I'm Gellert Grindelwald."

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