A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

Chapter 713 The Growing and Expanding New Saints

After the dinner, Professor McGonagall stood up and said to the students, "First-year students and prefects, please stay. Students from other years, please leave now to avoid anyone making a mistake or running to another lounge in the rush."

The students slowly pushed aside their chairs and headed towards the door. "Did anyone really go to the wrong place on the first day of school?" Harry asked curiously. "Oh, yes," Hermione said hurriedly, "but the mistake is easy to spot; each dormitory bed has the new students' names written on it."

Emmeline Vance, who had been quiet and reserved all evening, suddenly spoke up: "We haven't sung the school song yet." The professors sitting near her froze.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Ahem, this isn't a part of the program every year."

The other professors echoed in hushed tones, "Yes, yes."

A clear look of disappointment crossed Emily's face, as if some wish hidden deep in her heart had been dashed. She calmly said, "I know, it's usually only on important occasions. I only heard about it once when I was in school, and that was when I enrolled..."

"What was the reason that time?" Felix asked politely.

"I don't remember very well." Emily shook her head slightly.

Slughorn, standing nearby, wore a reminiscent expression. "I think I vaguely remember... Peeves caused a ruckus in the archives back then, and some folders were destroyed in the fire, including the sheet music for the school song. That was a long time ago... We hadn't sung the school song for several years before that, I think at least seven, because none of the students back then knew it..."

"So the school song has been without a tune since then?" Felix was somewhat surprised; so that's how it is.

"Actually, there was one; we found a backup in the library later," Slughorn explained. "However, Dumbledore thought that keeping only the text was enough, and the melody could be changed as needed."

Later that evening—Harry sat on his four-poster bed in his dormitory, taking things out of his suitcase one by one. He lifted the lid, and a thick stack of parchment spilled out. Ron picked up the one that had fallen in front of him, glanced at it, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow: "I didn't know you'd developed this habit of connecting names. Is there some kind of pattern?"

"They are real," Harry said. "And I'm going to write to them one by one."

Neville stood behind Ron, looking at the parchment with a slight astonishment.

"Is it because of Dumbledore's biography?"

“Yes, asking for some details. Ephias Dorje wants the biography to be as good as possible,” Harry said. For the next few minutes, Ron and Neville enthusiastically rattled off familiar names, treating it like a game of recognizing the most names—which usually meant the person whose name was called had achieved some success.

Simo, who was making the bed, leaned over and grinned. "Cormac McClargan will be insanely jealous."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, the price is spending every day pondering word choice, grammar, and phrasing." In fact, he did far more than that; he also spent a great deal of time trying to decipher Dumbledore's thoughts at different times, which was no easy feat. Harry had a similar experience—for a time, he was able to enter Voldemort's mind to sense his emotions and guess his intentions. Harry felt he was doing the same thing now.

"Let's think about something more practical," Ron asked. "What do you think Emily Vance will teach us tomorrow? I never knew she was good at Transfiguration; I thought she was good at dueling. She was our bodyguard, remember?"

"She excels in many subjects," Harry said without hesitation, "charms, potions, transfiguration, and she's even invented a few simple and useful spells. Dumbledore speaks highly of her."

“That’s amazing,” Ron said, carefully placing the two wizard chess pieces on the bedside table before lying down on the bed. “And that centaur—I noticed Trelawney didn’t show up all night; she must be furious.”

Harry shrugged, the image of Trelawney gritting her teeth at the mirror in the attic flashing through his mind. He suddenly thought of Luna, who was in sixth year and would probably take Frenze's courses.

At this moment, Neville, who was still standing in the same spot, hesitated before speaking.

"Harry, can I come with you to Transfiguration class tomorrow?"

Harry looked at Neville in surprise, but a distant memory was immediately triggered. "Oh, I remember you signed up for the Transfiguration OWLs exam last year, so you—"

"It's done!" Neville beamed.

Ron sat up abruptly in bed.

"What were your test scores?"

"Excellent," Neville whispered.

A series of exclamations echoed through the dormitory.

"Great!" Harry gave a thumbs up, and the others in the dormitory gathered around Neville to congratulate him. "So, you can start working your way up to Auror again?"

"How did you do that? Transfiguration is probably one of your worst subjects, isn't it?" Seamus asked him.

"I think it's the effect of the Animagus," Neville said softly. "During the practical assessment, the examiner said I was ranked at the top."

"Is the effect really that obvious? I want to try it myself." Seamus was extremely envious and also somewhat tempted. He and Dean both possessed guardian magic that could help Animagus.

"Neville worked very hard and spent a lot of time on it," Harry recalled. He couldn't quite remember what Neville was doing during that time, but he vaguely remembered that he was often with Hannah and had borrowed Hermione's notes.

"To be honest, it's a bit late now, unless you're planning to stay at school for a year." Dean's tone was also tinged with regret. They then discussed the issue for a long time, until they went to bed.

"I remember a few years ago there was a Slytherin team captain who was nicknamed 'Gorilla' and stayed on at school. What was his name again?"

"Marcus." Harry remembered him vividly.

"That's right, it's him. He only graduated with a certificate in one NEWTS exam, and it was in ancient magical script!"

"Isn't that amazing?"

……

For the next week, Felix stayed at the school, enjoying a rare period of leisure. As he mentioned during a dinner with other professors, after a month of continuous actions, both he and Akinbad needed a break. The International Wizarding Federation wasn't just him; even if he wanted to solve all the problems at once, he couldn't.

With Felix's mediation, the various national ministries of magic did not act rashly (they also wanted to wait for the outcome of the British negotiations), but they still reached a consensus on two things. The first was naturally to follow the example of the British Ministry of Magic and form a pan-magical alliance in the region. Felix spoke with Ms. Burns, and she immediately decided to send six experienced teams. The local Future World Company branch would also cooperate with them as much as possible.

The second matter was equally significant: preparing for the convening of the International Federation of Wizards' Congress.

Just as wizarding representatives from various countries gathered three hundred years ago to draft the Law of Secrecy, a new legal framework will be established. Besides the few remaining members of the International Wizarding Federation working diligently on preparations, high-ranking officials from the magic ministries of various countries are also working towards this goal.

A week later, after a short rest, Felix left the school. The memory device in classroom number seven was realistic enough to replace him in teaching. And for a wizard—especially for him—distance was not a problem; he could even return to school for lunch every day.

When I saw Akinbad again, he was staring blankly at the huge world map on the wall with a distressed expression.

"Here, here, and these places..." He tapped the African continent section a dozen times and said, "They've all been taken over by Grindelwald. He's chosen a new generation of young saints and replaced the loose organizational structure. Some small groups of wizards who tried to rebel or break free from his control have been crushed."

"The changes over there are much more radical, they're practically in full swing," Akinbad said.

Felix wasn't surprised at all, because it was his own doing. He dug up the Grindelwald Code from the ruins of history, picked out the parts that were still relevant to the times, and even some of them were radical, and implemented them. Through his efforts, Grindelwald's name was now very famous, and all sorts of analytical reports about him were on his desk.

Meanwhile, as a representative of sorcererism (similar to nationalism), Grindelwald also gained a large following, which plunged Akimbad into deep fear and doubt.

“Grindelwald is smarter and more dangerous than we think! Instead of standing by, he’s trying to break free from the constraints of the ‘unbreakable oath.’ He’s chosen the most chaotic Africa, breaking all the rules in the name of saving wizards—I know what you’re going to say,” he told Felix. “Even if he’s sincere, arrogantly believing himself to be the chosen one to save wizards from their doom—you can’t deny one thing: his power is expanding rapidly.”

"I don't deny it," Felix said.

"So——"

"Since we can't take care of that place for the time being, why not leave it to him? Don't you also think some of his measures are very meaningful? According to your analysis, Grindelwald's real purpose is to streamline the more than two hundred loose wizarding community management organizations into more than twenty institutions similar to the Ministry of Magic... In the future, the wizarding cohesion in that land will be higher, and management will be more convenient."

"But he will use his unified army of wizards to fight against us!"

“There’s an oath binding him…” Felix couldn’t remember how many times he’d brought up this reason, but perhaps he’d said it too often lately. Akinbad was still staring at him, so Felix had no choice but to change his approach. “Alright, I’ll step in if necessary to ensure the two are united.”

"How is this possible?" Akinbad exclaimed.

"The situation is constantly changing, Mr. Chairman. Therefore, anything can happen," Felix said seriously. "At this stage, Grindelwald has little impact on us. On the contrary, his presence can deter some people with ill intentions—more so than I can."

"Ah, if only he were on our side," Akinbad sighed, a phantom glint in his eyes. "He wouldn't just be a sinner who single-handedly overturned the Secrecy Act and devastated the magical world, but... but..."

What is it?

Akinbad couldn't quite put it into words; he wasn't saying these things to defend Grindelwald, but rather out of regret and sorrow.

After realizing he had been tricked, he wanted nothing more than to smash that hateful, cunning old face with his fists. This thought lingered in his mind for weeks, and even after learning that Grindelwald intended to make Africa his own territory, it not only didn't diminish but became even stronger. In his eyes, this was a complete act of dividing factions and splitting the wizarding world, a carefully orchestrated conspiracy by an ambitious person.

Unfortunately, Akinbad could only watch helplessly, unable to do anything. He couldn't even return to Africa to see his homeland in person. He feared that not only would he not see anyone, but he would also be defeated by a few nameless people who believed in Grindelwald's ideals, become a prisoner, be brought before Grindelwald, and be ridiculed to his face.

Felix, the only one capable of protecting him, resolutely disagreed with rushing to Africa, instead focusing his attention on Europe and the Americas. To be more precise, he even temporarily set aside the Americas. Akinbad was quite critical of this, suspecting that he was afraid to face Grindelwald.

But Akinbad had to admit one fact:

From a purely utilitarian perspective, Felix's actions were beyond reproach; in fact, their correctness became increasingly apparent over time. He didn't rush into conflict with Grindelwald or flaunt his power (something that Arkinbad found utterly unbelievable); nor did he waste time dealing with the near-unsolvable mess in America. Instead, he raced against time to rebuild the prestige of the International Wizarding Federation.

After a month, the federation was no longer an empty shell.

The above are the views of Arkinbard and a portion of the wizarding community. If it were Felix, his thoughts would be completely different—indeed, no one could possibly imagine that Grindelwald and Felix, two people who stirred up storms and had such different personalities, were essentially two sides of the same coin.

Through Felix's deliberate actions, Africa has become almost an independent kingdom.

His actions were entirely consistent with Grindelwald's usual behavior, and even Vita Rozier, the only one who knew the truth, sometimes couldn't help but wonder: was Felix impersonating Grindelwald, or was Grindelwald impersonating Felix Heap?

At least in her view, Grindelwald's ideas are eroding the minds and living space of African sorcerers in a gentle way, growing like wildfire in the past month.

"If it weren't for his health, he could very well have shone brightly in this era. Of course, if that were the case, it would mean that he and I would be completely on opposite sides."

"Felix said with emotion. As he said this, he had just single-handedly defeated a wizarding group that had "taken advantage of the chaos to grow stronger." At this moment, more than fifty wizards lay on the ground, looking up at him angrily.

Felix waved his hand casually, and the new generation of saints took over the place with their heads held high and in an orderly manner.

"So whose ideas do you lean more towards? Grindelwald's or Dumbledore's?" Rozier asked in a low voice.

"What ideas?" Felix countered. "I'm here to solve problems."

(End of this chapter)