A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

The next day, a heavy rain fell over Hogwarts. The rain extinguished the morning mist in the Forbidden Forest, yet everything in sight became shrouded in a grey haze.

Snuffles nestled in a cradle bed lined with fine sponge and velvet fabric. Ever since finding out yesterday that it would be staying at Hogwarts, it refused to squeeze itself into the empty space within Felix Harp's pocket watch. Instead, when Felix wasn't paying attention, it had moved its bed out and then hidden the silver pocket watch. Felix had gone through its collection again, carrying it in his hand, but he couldn't find where the watch was hidden.

Of course, he didn't search too seriously; he couldn't keep circling around it. He had been away from home before, after all.

What he didn't know was that its collection had grown a bit more since then—a silver fork, likely from Beauxbatons' tableware; a crystal ball that emitted a bright light. Felix looked left and right before recognizing it as the one from Nicolas Flamel's home—it had been covered in dust the first time he saw it, but now it was perfectly clean.

As Felix gazed at Valen, it carefully exhaled and wiped the surface of the crystal ball, making the clouds and lightning inside it even brighter. Apart from these, there were various other odds and ends, probably gathered when Felix wasn't paying attention: a temperature-regulated pendant box, a badger-shaped magic lantern, a cigarette case, a hazy hourglass, a gold necklace. Oh, Felix knew about that one; he had modified it with Galleons. It all started when he wanted to see how dark the fairies from Gringotts really were and how much sand he should mix into Galleons. The result... well, he suddenly had the urge to rob the fairy clan.

He remembered reading a book about ancient fairies once. It described in detail the extravagant lives of the top ten fairy families, vividly bringing out every detail, as if the wizard who wrote the book had peered into fairy holes.

In his description, these fairy families were as comparable to the Malfoys in the wizarding world.

It was hard to say whose animosity the writing wizard had against more, but Lucius Malfoy definitely wouldn't want that metaphor to spread.

It had been a week since the Quidditch World Cup ended, and during this time, Lucius hadn't responded. Felix wasn't worried, though. Pure-blood families chose auspicious days even to send invitations; how could he expect them to surrender easily? Moreover, the Ministry of Magic, under the pressure of public opinion, hadn't given up on hunting down the escaped hooded wizard. This matter would probably drag on for a while longer.

But Felix intended to wait until Christmas this year. If Lucius hadn't reacted by then, he would go collect the debt himself.

Now, Snuffles Valen had its eye on a spare Basilisk Fang ring placed on the worktable, and it also had genuine affection for the memory Pensieve emitting a soft silver light. However, last night, Felix had given it a lesson.

The lesson, in summary, was this—its little pocket was for storing its most favorite things; the less treasured items were to be kept in the office. That was also its home and treasure trove.

From then on, it knew a principle: the crafty Snuffles had three lairs...

And another thing, it couldn't steal from others. Otherwise, Felix would enchant the pocket shut and, right in front of it, give its treasures away. If it behaved well, there would be additional rewards.

After days of French education and coercion, Snuffles Valen raised three tender fingers in the name of its two brothers, solemnly swearing.

"Boom!"

A lightning bolt tore through the grey sky, illuminating Felix's figure standing by the windowsill. Snuffles Valen raised its head, twisted its body, climbed onto Felix's shoulder, and together, they gazed at the thick curtain of rain outside.

They listened to the pouring rain, the faint mist of raindrops blowing onto their faces, a cool sensation.

Felix turned his head slightly, pursed his lips, and said, "Don't wear that necklace again, it's too ugly." Snuffles also turned its mouth away, its shiny black eyes showing disdain for his aesthetics.

Eleven in the morning.

At this time, the Hogwarts Express should have already left King's Cross Station, spewing steam, and headed towards the Scottish Highlands.

Felix appeared in the Headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore were sitting on the sofa, discussing the reception arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament among the four magical schools.

"Madame Maxime and her students will stay in the carriage and can be placed at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Durmstrang's people will come by ship and can be arranged near the Black Lake..." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, "But the other two schools are difficult to accommodate. While Beauxbatons doesn't mind staying in the Forbidden Forest, they can turn into small animals themselves—"

"Minerva," Dumbledore rested his head on his hand, "The International Confederation of Wizards can use Portkeys to cross continents. They can disguise themselves as a traveling group and be placed near the Quidditch pitch. As for Durmstrang, they'll arrive a bit later..."

"Later than the scheduled time?" Professor McGonagall asked, "A few days late?"

"That's the problem," Dumbledore said, gesturing for Felix to find a seat. He looked a bit troubled as he said, "They intend to come all the way here."

Professor McGonagall looked at him in surprise, "Albus, what are you saying? They're in Africa!"

"Yes, I know. I've been there a few times myself, especially hoping to try the work of a Dream Messenger—" Dumbledore chuckled, "To tell young wizards in their dreams that they've been accepted and leave a letter behind."

"Dumbledore—" Professor McGonagall looked at him sternly.

"Ah, right... Where were we? Durmstrang treats this journey as a trial; it's a tradition they've always had. However, coming from Africa to Britain is unprecedented."

Professor McGonagall's expression turned serious. "Albus, this shows how much importance they attach to this tournament. I can almost imagine the trials these children must have faced on their way. Compared to them, our students can't even cast spells properly."

"Minerva, don't underestimate our students." Dumbledore smiled and said, "I've always believed our students are capable. Isn't that right, Felix?"

Felix looked up and smiled, interjecting, "Albus, I just came back from Beauxbatons. Their students already knew about the Triwizard Tournament ahead of time and are using their summer break for specialized training."

"Um..." Dumbledore hesitated. He looked at Professor McGonagall, and as expected, she said indignantly, "Look at this, Dumbledore! Other schools are preparing, but what about us? We're enjoying our summer happily, and our students don't even know that their Quidditch matches for this year have been canceled."

"Minerva..."

"...I've told you about this matter before, and you couldn't even be found, acting like a negligent shopkeeper." Professor McGonagall's chest rose and fell rapidly. Clearly angry, the thought of Hogwarts students being left hanging and missing out on playing Quidditch left her frustrated.

Felix, who had been watching the scene unfold, turned his head away guiltily. He thought about Lupin; he had also entrusted a lot of matters to him.

"Is Lupin feeling the same as Professor McGonagall?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore had to placate his Deputy Headmistress, "I've made arrangements. Felix is here today for this reason."

"Really?" Professor McGonagall looked skeptical.

"Of course," Felix nodded, "During the vacation, I discussed with the Headmaster and proposed some spells to be included in the necessary curriculum. Albus said he needed more time to think it over. Has he agreed now?"

"It's not about that," Dumbledore said helplessly.

"But I think this proposal is good," Professor McGonagall said. She turned to Felix and continued, "I've always thought our young wizards are too lackadaisical. Felix, we have time to discuss this and finalize it."

Dumbledore interrupted their conversation. He spoke directly, "I plan to expand the Dueling Club's responsibilities. It will become a specialized elective class, and the choice of instructors will be flexible and rotational. And Felix, you'll need to allocate more time to provide specialized training for the champions."

"Why me?" Felix asked curiously.

"Your unique advantage lies in the magical instruments..." Dumbledore blinked, "...they are of great help to the champions. You suggested improvements to me, and I believe the Memory Pensieve hasn't fully demonstrated its potential; it has surpassed the function of the Pensieve."

Felix pondered the Headmaster's words. "Are you saying—"

"I can offer a memory from when I was seventeen," Dumbledore nodded slightly, "including my combat wisdom."

Felix was taken aback. Wizarding memories were the most precious treasures. Many people regarded them as deeply private, and though he knew Dumbledore would undoubtedly remove irrelevant memories and even prevent others from prying, this level of trust came unexpectedly.

Seeing Felix's dazed expression, Dumbledore smiled slightly, "Am I a fossil in your eyes, living in the last century, unchanged?"

Felix regained his composure. "It's just a bit unexpected, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall was very interested in their conversation. After learning about the role of the Pensieve, she decided to join in. "We can also involve other professors—"

"No, Minerva," Dumbledore firmly shook his head and said solemnly, "Don't trouble the other professors. We shouldn't force them into decisions or even mention it to them."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore's attitude was resolute. She didn't voice her disagreement. "Alright then, I'll go and prepare the Great Hall with Philius Flitwick." With that, she left the office.

"Headmaster, what led to this decision? Honestly, you startled me just now." When only the two of them remained in the Headmaster's office, Felix joked.

"Because I received a letter, from..." The Sorting Hat on the shelf suddenly opened a seam and spoke loudly.

However, Dumbledore gave it a solemn look, and it immediately fell silent, instead starting to softly hum the song of the Sorting Hat's new intake this year.

"Brave Gryffindor from the wasteland marsh,

Beautiful Ravenclaw from the tranquil riverbank,

Kind Hufflepuff from the wide valley,

Cunning Slytherin from the mudflats vast.

They share a dream, a wish in their heart; a dream, a wish... they share a dream, a wish..."

The Sorting Hat seemed to be struggling to find the right words, or perhaps it was giving a final rehearsal. It kept repeating the last sentence, but the singing was quite off-putting. Felix had heard it for seven years during school and another two years after graduating. It was starting to get old, and he wished it would keep quiet so he could focus on his research.

Ignoring the Sorting Hat, Dumbledore raised his voice. He explained, "Do you remember the Christmas present you gave me in your first year of employment, '99 Inventions That Changed the World'? I passed it on to a friend and we discussed the contents, incidentally mentioning you."

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