A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“I can see a blurry shadow on a person, more mysterious than a ghost—they don’t always appear, and most of the time they have no effect, until at a certain moment, they transform into a picture, and I see the future… I once saw an endless black tide on a dark wizard, and two months later, he orchestrated a massacre… I feel deeply guilty about this, and my third eye may become a burden…”

Hermione stared blankly at the golden paper, which swayed gently in mid-air. She murmured, "This is..."

“I stumbled upon letters Cassandra Trelawney sent to a friend a century later,” Felix said. “Cassandra didn’t live long, perhaps for that reason; her talents didn’t bring her happiness. A few years before her death, she distanced herself from her family and lived a solitary life.”

"So, you believe that Professor Trelawney inherited her ancestors' talents?"

"I guess it's a partial inheritance, judging from her daily behavior."

Hermione sighed; she found herself not so much hating Sybil Trelawney anymore.

After sitting quietly for a while, she patted her face and cheered herself up. "Professor, shall I continue practicing the Illumination spell today?"

“Yes, after all, this is the first ancient magic I plan to teach at the club, so we need to be careful. In the entire Hogwarts, you are the only one who has mastered all the runes required for this magic.”

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath, and magical runes appeared in front of her. These magical symbols, centered on 'light', continued to piece together and converge, as if completing a jigsaw puzzle.

A light bloomed at her fingertips, a milky white glow that was gentle and not dazzling. Hermione carefully controlled the magic, but her magical power poured out uncontrollably...

"I must not be controlled by magic. Oh, it still doesn't work—" Hermione's hand shattered, and she said dejectedly, "My magic can't even last a few tries, even though I can do it in the Mind Chamber."

Felix smiled and said, "You learn very quickly. I expect you'll have mastered it by the end of the Easter holiday."

Hermione wiped her sweat, her gaze falling on the Marauder's Map on the workbench. She couldn't help but ask, "Professor, hasn't that dark wizard shown up yet?"

“Yes,” Felix said helplessly, “It really is a rat. All we can do is wait.”

After a long pause, Hermione said, biting her lip with a troubled expression, "Professor, can the Faithful Charm be broken?"

Felix stared into her eyes: "Miss Granger... what have you guessed this time?"

“Oh, me,” Hermione said, her lips trembling, “Sirius Black was imprisoned in Azkaban for not only the heinous crime of murder, but also because he was a loyal spy for Voldemort, and he betrayed Harry’s parents!”

“If I’m not mistaken, you have one more ‘but’.” Felix looked at her calmly.

“But that doesn’t make sense! Even if Black hates Ron’s rats more, for example, due to infighting among the Death Eaters, or some personal grudge, he wouldn’t let Harry off the hook. I thought of a possibility, I’ve looked into it privately, but the Faithful Charm can’t be broken by external force…”

Felix paused for a moment, then said in a deep voice, "Miss Granger, if... I mean if, things change unexpectedly, and you encounter him—Sirius Black, Granger, you can trust him, especially when Harry is in danger!"

Chapter 295 Homework

Hermione was still feeling dizzy when she came out of the office.

Although the professor didn't say it explicitly, the implication was quite clear: Sirius Black was innocent, or at least harmless to Harry.

She didn't know whether to tell Harry or not, but she didn't know the truth, and telling him would only cause her more trouble, and she was already troubled enough. With the Easter holidays approaching, professors from all subjects had unanimously increased the amount of homework, and Hermione felt like she was spinning like a top.

She used the time converter to its fullest potential, but even so, she still inevitably missed some classes.

Hermione was somewhat relieved that the Duel Study Group had been temporarily canceled, because Harry's attention was entirely focused on his daily Quidditch practice, and he also had to discuss various tactics with Wood during his daily breaks, so he could only complete his homework in fragmented time.

This caused the quality of Harry's submitted papers to plummet, but fortunately he wasn't the only one being criticized.

Harry and Draco Malfoy were summoned to the Transfiguration professor's office. "Gentlemen," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "I know you're preparing for the Quidditch finals, but that's no excuse for making such a mess of your homework."

Yes, the Quidditch final, Harry thought absently. Tomorrow was the first day of the Easter holiday, and the first Saturday after the holiday ended was the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match.

He snapped out of his reverie, staring at Draco Malfoy, whose pale face was marred by prominent dark circles under his eyes, and whose gaze held a defiant glint. This was merely a microcosm of the tense atmosphere between the two schools and their respective teams; recently, the conflict between the Lions and the Snakes had been almost out in the open.

A shadow crossed Draco's eyes. He was under a lot of pressure on the team and was used as a disruptor to slow down Porter's offensive pace, which made him resentful at one point. However, when he thought about the speed of Firebolt, he lost his temper.

He wrote home to inquire about the price of the fire crossbow bolts, but his father, unusually, refused, saying that this thing cost more than the seven light-elemental rockets his entire team possessed.

The total cost of 2001 was even higher than that, which he found hard to believe. Who gave it to Potter?

Could he be a foolish worshipper of Potter?

“…Never before has this happened. Two students are still in the hospital, their ears are oozing chives, and seven people are in solitary confinement…” Professor McGonagall’s voice seemed to be used as background noise in the two’s tense staring contest, and clearly, McGonagall had noticed this as well.

She said angrily, "Go ahead, I'm only saying this once, but if you don't behave..." Her face turned red, and she hesitated for a long time, but still insisted, "I will put you in solitary confinement, that's right, before the final! I will discuss it with Severus."

Harry quickly assured Professor McGonagall, and Draco's expression softened. He forced a smile at Harry, who resisted the urge to say anything sarcastic and shook his hand.

Emerging from the Transfiguration classroom, the two who had been huddled together parted ways, and Draco gave a disdainful snort before turning and leaving. Harry returned to the common room just in time to hear Seamus yelling, "This is what you call a holiday? Exams are still a long way off!"

I went over to take a look and found that they were counting the homework left by each subject.

Dean Thomas counted on his fingers, having already done so for quite some time: "...History of Magic, three two-foot essays; Potions class, three, one of which is three feet long. Snape must have lost his mind! The title is—let me see—An Analysis of the Improved Formula of Wolfsbane Potion..."

Dean muttered a curse under his breath and complained, "It's not on the final exam, so why are we writing this?" He muttered, "What do you mean by understanding the latest developments in the field of potions... He just wants to show off his research results."

Harry couldn't agree with him any longer, Dean continued, "...Transfiguration class, two papers, and a Transfiguration exercise to bring inanimate objects to life; Astronomy class, twelve star charts..."

He heard a retching sound beside him, turned around and saw Neville, who said palely, "Sorry, I feel a little nauseous..."

The twins leaned over and asked, "Want some energy boost?"

Harry looked puzzled and said, "Isn't this for treating a cold?"

Invigorating remedies were Mrs. Pomfrey's specialty, with immediate effects on colds and flu. The only downside was that after drinking the remedy, smoke would continuously rise from her ears for the next few hours.

“We’ve improved it to live up to its name,” Fred said with a smile. “I’ll show you.” He pulled out a candy and popped it into his mouth. “We made it solid for easy portability, so we can give it to you in class. Hmm, it’s a bit awful, George. Write that down; we could make it fruit-flavored…”

“Got it, buddy,” George grinned, taking over the narration and telling the group of young wizards, “You’ll be in a state of high energy for the next few hours, except for a few minor aftereffects…”

"Waaah!"

Fred seemed to have been hit by something; white smoke billowed from his ears, and he made a loud whistle sound. He said energetically, "See that? Instantly relieve fatigue, one worry-free pill, seven Sickles for a sincere gift."

Dean was very interested, and Harry, looking at the stack of homework on the table, was also somewhat tempted. By this time, quite a few young wizards had gathered around, pushing him to the side. After waiting in line for five minutes, he noticed that every two minutes, Fred would time it perfectly and sound a whistle, as if he were imitating a train.

After much deliberation, he left and found Ron and Hermione in the corner. Hermione's eyes were a little red, and she was yawning softly. He felt that Hermione needed a stimulant, or rather, a stimulant candy.

She was scribbling on a piece of parchment, and Harry glanced down at it and saw that it was a final exam study plan.

After a while, Hermione finally finished her task. She chewed on her quill: "I should make the most of the Easter break. I've already finished my assignments for History of Magic and Astronomy—"

Ron said in surprise, "Don't you always finish your ancient runes homework first?"

"The professor waived my assignment, saying it was a waste of time," Hermione said.

Ron let out a wail, "How could this be... I was counting on your paper as a reference!"

“In fact,” Hermione said sternly, “the top ten on the parchment leaderboard were all exempted from homework.”

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes filled with anticipation. Harry shrugged. "I'll be training for most of my holidays. We have the advantage, but we could also be overturned. This is the worst-case scenario—Wood has finally gone mad."

“Okay, I’ll write it, and I’ll lend it to you when I’m done,” Ron sighed.

Hermione snorted, but she didn't say anything. She just stood up and walked out of the lounge. A little while later, she came back yawning, looking even more tired.

Harry continued the previous topic, "It's a bit strange, but Professor McGonagall no longer forbids me from going out..."

Hermione jolted awake, instantly snapping back to reality.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry looked at her curiously. "Do you know why?"

“No, it’s something else, I’m not sure yet,” Hermione said hesitantly. “I have something to tell you after the Quidditch match.”

……

The next morning.

Felix dressed formally and went to the medal ceremony.

Chapter 296 Crouch and Bagman

Ministry of Magic.

Felix pushed open the door of the phone booth, watched it rise to the ground, and walked into the lobby with the crowd.

"Hello, Mr. Haip."

"Mr. Haip, congratulations."

Felix nodded in response to each one. After giving a speech at the Ministry of Magic, he had made quite a few acquaintances. He went to Drawing Room Number Three with practiced ease, where only an elderly wizard was present. He raised his head shakily: "Felix Heap?"

“You are…Augustus Gray? I remember you, at the awarding ceremony in Belby.”

The old wizard grinned, revealing that all his teeth had fallen out. "It's rare to see such an outstanding young man before I retire."

“You flatter me, Mr. Gray,” Felix said with a smile.

As the two chatted, Augustus Grey, who had been working in the Wizengamot Office for seventy years, handling routine paperwork, explained that he was a reckless young man back then and had gradually risen through the ranks to become the head of the office. He knew a great deal about the Ministry of Magic and was familiar with many interesting stories and gossip.

"...Bertha, that little girl, is so innocent and kind, and she loves to help others. She asked me if I needed a walking stick..."

Felix blinked. "Bertha Jorkins? I think I've heard that name before."

A cheerful voice came from behind them, "Ha~ What are you two talking about?"

Felix turned around. He was a large, imposing wizard. It was clear that he must have once been tall and strong, but now he was on the decline, his body becoming more rounded, making it hard to associate him with the word "robust."

His movements were large, his arms waving constantly as he spoke, and his voice was full of emotion and incredibly infectious.

“Hello, I’m Ludo Bagman, and you’re Felix Heap? I’ve heard people in the department mention Arthur, Arthur Weasley, I don’t know if you know him, he was really impressed with your last speech.” Bagman tossed his blond hair, leaned closer, and whispered, “Well done. I mean, I hate McNeil too, really hate him…”

Felix said gently, "Mr. Bagman, I was just giving a normal speech—"

“Yes, yes,” Bagman interrupted him eagerly, his face beaming. “Who says otherwise? I wasn’t in the department at the time; there was a fan gathering, and these people were so enthusiastic… God, I love them. But, well, I knew what it was all about the first time I heard about it,” he winked. “I’m close to some pure-blood families through my father… They told me a lot.”

Felix smiled broadly. "I'm curious about what they said."

“Ahem, I can’t say. I promised them, but,” Bagman hesitated for a moment, then couldn’t hold back any longer. He said mysteriously, “You’re very famous in the pure-blood faction. They all respect you. I think they respect you even more than they respect Barty Crouch. By the way, Barty—”

He suddenly shouted into the distance, and Felix looked in the direction of the sound and saw a man in his fifties, with a straight back and stiff movements. His wizard robe was spotless, without even a single wrinkle at the edges.

Crouch walked over, taking a straight line. "Bagman, hello," Crouch said politely, his short mustache neatly trimmed as if it had been measured with a ruler. "I've been looking for you, about work."

“Let’s put aside this damn work for a moment and have a chat,” Bagman said warmly. “Let me introduce you to my new friend, Felix Heap, the star of today’s show. He’s a unique figure in the field of memory therapy!”

Crouch calmly extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. Heip, it’s an honor to meet you, but I don’t have time. I have to meet with the Bulgarian minister later.”

"Hello, Mr. Crouch, you may leave at any time if you need to."

“That’s right,” Bagman said with a big smile, “It’s only you who can understand their winding, strange accents, you must have had a lot of trouble…”

“You’ll have to come with me, Bagman. There’s a lot of work over there that needs someone to keep an eye on things, otherwise we’ll just be two hundred scattered individuals, and the number keeps increasing, and I can’t be in two places at once.”

“I know,” Bagman said awkwardly, but he quickly found an excuse, “I’m busy too, you know. Communication with the Americans isn’t going smoothly. They want to change the rules, but who am I? I certainly won’t compromise—”

Crouch raised his eyebrows. "We promise not to reveal any details before making an official announcement."

“Oh, details!” Bagman waved his hand dismissively. “But the event is taking place at Hogwarts, and we’ll be talking to them about the details during the holidays. You see, I bet Hyp knows something.”