A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

Harry took it and glanced at it. "Nothing out of the ordinary was written on it..."

"She's spreading rumors that I practice superhuman strength magic!" Hermione said angrily. "Do I look like I'm related to a troll?"

“What is that?” Harry asked.

“The trolls’ talents are something the magical world has always doubted, but they have to come up with something, otherwise trolls would be no different from ordinary creatures,” Fred and George said, sitting next to them.

Soon everyone had arrived, and the students from the other four schools were scattered across four long tables. Byers and Fleur both chose to sit in the Gryffindor seats. "What kind of performance are you planning to put on?" Harry asked.

“Oh, you mean that?” Byers said vaguely, looking rather uninterested. “You’ll find out when the time comes. What about your school?”

Harry shook his head; he didn't know either. Neville chimed in, "It's a ghost show. I overheard the fat monk from Hufflepuff and almost headless Nick discussing the party. The fat monk was worried there wouldn't be enough food to go around..."

The group exchanged bewildered glances. "They want to bring the ghosts' food into the Great Hall?" Ron couldn't help but shudder.

“Don’t forget, there’s now Classroom Seven; maybe the food will taste better then,” Harry reminded him.

“I still can’t forget Nick’s five-hundredth birthday party,” Ron said pessimistically. The ghosts had deliberately made everything moldy to make the food taste better.

The dinner began. The table was laden with all sorts of delicious food. Harry's eyes fell on a salmon. He couldn't help but think of the salmon skewers he had seen that day. He had assumed that the house-elves in the kitchen had come up with some new dishes, but unfortunately, he hadn't seen any on the table.

Then the lights went out.

A group of silver ghosts drifted in like waves, gliding through the Great Hall in some kind of formation. Harry spotted Nick, who was almost headless—he was holding his head with one hand to keep it from falling, while the other hand was making carefully rehearsed movements with the other ghosts. He looked extremely excited.

Harry knew that Nick had tried very hard to join the Headless Hunters, but was rejected because of a physical defect—he still had a bit of skin attached to his neck—and he had complained about it.

A few minutes later, the ghosts gathered together, and the students applauded them politely. Suddenly, the ghosts scattered, flying into the air and scattering silver specks of light.

Harry looked up nervously and recognized it as something egg-shaped. He couldn't resist reaching out to touch it, a risky move, because his experience told him that contact with a ghost would give him the feeling of suddenly falling into an ice cave.

But the next second, a feeling of happiness flowed through his body. He felt as if he had returned to the ancient magic office, sitting on the professor's sofa and flipping through the magic book. He was stuck on the chapter called "Happiness" for a long time.

"Those are my memories!" a ghost floated excitedly in front of him; it was Nick, who was almost headless.

“Oh, uh, that feels great,” Harry complimented sincerely.

“Thank you, I’ve finally managed to get this opportunity!” Nick said, almost headless. “I mean, I expected this outcome... I was the only one who had ever been a courtier of Henry VII and had tasted the delicacies of the court!” His tone turned somber. “Although he was the one who sentenced me to death.”

“That’s a shame,” Harry could only say. But he was thinking that Henry VII must have been very poor, unable to afford even a good axe, since Nick Fury, who was nearly headless, had said that he had been chopped 45 times by the executioner and still hadn’t been completely decapitated.

“Want to give it a try?” Felix asked from the teachers’ table. “My memory likes to do weird things; it’s been complaining to me that it can’t get out…”

“No need,” Snape said coldly, pushing away the silver light that surrounded him.

Then, the Great Hall was lit again. A row of short goblins walked to the center of the Great Hall, their faces even more rigid than Snape's. They brandished their miniature bows expressionlessly, as if they might draw an arrow from behind their backs at any moment. The Great Hall was silent, and no one reacted until they left.

Dumbledore clapped his hands politely, eliciting a sparse round of applause. The program that followed was much more normal. Students from Vagabond performed a lively African dance, and Nona Libert's graceful figure attracted the attention of many boys. The students also got to see the Beauxbatons' Wood Fairy Choir, and Fleur sang a serenade with them, completely captivated.

"So, Professor Hyp's birthday is April 15th?" Fred asked, picking up a piece of chicken with his fork.

“Maybe,” Harry paused for a moment, “I didn’t ask for details, but Professor Hyp said yesterday that the cake was only opened this morning and was very fresh…”

“Oh.” Fred and George exchanged a knowing glance, and Fred said in a serious tone, “George, next year is our last year in school.”

“Yes,” George said without hesitation, “gifts should be given early.”

"Are you going to play a prank on the professor on his birthday?" Hermione asked in a shrill voice.

“Don’t say that,” Fred didn’t deny it, “I just wanted to leave a good memory… I just realized that our birthdays are all in April, me, George and Professor Hyp. It must be a special coincidence.”

"you?"

"April 1st, yes, April Fool's Day, but this is not a joke."

Chapter 462 The Ministry of Magic's Elite

The next day, Felix arrived at the Ministry of Magic on time. The elevator, disguised as a red telephone booth, stopped on the dark floor of the Ministry's lobby. "The Ministry of Magic hopes you have a pleasant day," said the indifferent female voice inside the elevator.

Then the phone booth door suddenly opened. Perhaps because of the Easter holiday, the magnificent lobby was empty and eerily quiet. Felix immediately spotted the person waiting not far away—Tonks.

She had violet hair, and her nose was much softer than before. Disguise Magus... It was amazing, Felix thought. It would be even better if I could study it.

But he wouldn't say it aloud.

“Mr. Hyp, I took this job from Kingsley,” Tonks said cheerfully, walking towards him and looking him up and down. “You just came here like this?”

“Otherwise?” Felix asked.

“I thought you would bring some teaching aids. Remus mentioned to me that you always have a lot of interesting inventions and ingenious ideas.”

“I did bring it, and I’ll take it out when the time is right.” Felix smiled slightly as he walked with her toward the elevator. “Are you still in contact with Remus?”

“Oh yes,” Tonks said. “I like to go to Sword Keep when I have free time, on days it’s open. Remus gave me a lot of advice. He’s been bothered by me for knocking me out, but he didn’t mean it, did he… We’re going up to the second floor. Scrimgeour is waiting.”

"Sword Fortress?"

“It’s the headquarters of the ‘Futureworld’ company. It looks like a sword stuck in Diagon Alley, that’s what we all call it,” Tonks said, fiddling with the elevator buttons. The elevator jolted and started moving.

Felix suddenly realized that he was always learning about his company's hidden secrets from others, and he found it quite pleasant, as it gave him the impression of rapid growth and expanding influence. Tonks, standing nearby, steered the conversation back on track, "I've been saving money for the Emerald Crown lately, but I've always been a big spender..."

“It’s really popular with girls,” Felix said understandingly.

“Oh, uh,” Tonks looked a little flustered, and she quickly explained, “I don’t mean to wear one or two princess dresses, I mean, although it is really pretty… it has six styles and can be made to order, don’t you think it suits my abilities perfectly?” She pointed to her face, her soft nose bridge quickly becoming angular, making her face look more refined and sharp.

"Ding!" We've arrived at the second floor.

Felix feigned being persuaded, and they went to the Auror office, an open space divided into several small cubicles, each belonging to an Auror. Although it was a holiday, most of the seats were still occupied.

The Aurors chatted in twos and threes, and when Tonks led Felix in, they all turned their gazes toward him. Felix sensed a range of emotions: curiosity, admiration, suspicion, scrutiny, and even a couple of malicious glances.

“That’s my seat,” Tonks said, pointing to a small cubicle with stickers on the wooden board. Several unprocessed documents and a water glass were scattered on the table, with a discount coupon for 'Future World' company under the glass.

“Thank you for your hard work, Tonks,” Kingsley interrupted. “Leave the rest to me.”

Felix felt like a piece of merchandise, briefly passing through Tonks' hands before being taken over by more professional people. Kingsley led him to the inner part of the open space, where there was a heavy oak door with a gilded wooden plaque bearing Scrimgeour's name and title.

“Hello, Mr. Hep.” In the office, Scrimgeour stood up and said. He didn’t use the cane hanging on the shelf, but limped out from behind the solid wood desk. He looked much more enthusiastic than last time, and his lion’s mane-like hair kept shaking as he shook hands with Felix. “The department has been talking about you lately. Gersharda thinks very highly of you.”

Felix assumed he was referring to the redesign of the Ancient Runes curriculum. "I hope everything goes well."

“Indeed,” Scringer said. “You have a very good chance of being selected. She chose the right time, and I must admit that Gesarda has a wide network of connections and is a veteran of Wizengamo. Her recommendation carries a lot of weight.”

Felix found it odd; they didn't seem to be talking about the same thing. Before he could ask, Scrimgeour had already walked out of the office, shouted at the Aurors, and they all stood up and headed for the door.

“Let’s go to the training room,” Scrinker told him.

"Training room?" Felix was taken aback, then quickly realized that the Aurors couldn't possibly be without their own training grounds.

“The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is the largest department in the ministry,” Scrimgeour laughed. “That’s reflected in many ways: the number of people, the space, and of course, the expenses.” They walked out the door, heading in the opposite direction from the elevator. After passing through some corridors, they turned at the Department for the Prohibition of the Abuse of Muggle Items ahead and entered a dark, dilapidated corridor.

The corridor seemed to be deliberately designed this way, and Felix sensed a trace of magic. After walking for a few minutes, they finally reached the end of the corridor—it seemed to be a dead end. Felix saw a huge wall with a life-size portrait hanging on it. In the frame sat a brown-haired wizard with a scholarly air, holding a thick book and reading with great interest.

“Justus Pilivik, the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, built this training room during his tenure,” Scrimgeour said.

Felix glanced at the portrait a few times. "I've seen him before, on the Chocolate Frog card." The wizard in the portrait met his gaze, removed his hat, bowed slightly, and asked, "Which do you think is more important, making laws or enforcing laws?"

“The latter,” Felix said, “is that the intentions of the law are always good, but even the most perfect law needs people to enforce and interpret it.”

“Interpreting the law is an art,” the wizard in the portrait agreed, spinning to make way and revealing a large, dark hole.

After walking a dozen steps through the cave entrance, the space suddenly opened up, brightly lit. Felix squinted, his gaze sweeping across this underground space, which was even larger than the Great Hall of Hogwarts. There were nearly a hundred people, far more than he had seen in the Auror's office. Felix estimated that many of them were probably strikers.

“There are only thirty-seven people in the data,” he said softly.

“You’re right, and you only need to think about those people,” Scringer said. “The others are just here to watch the show; they’ll probably stay for an hour or two and then leave. They have their own tasks.”

He introduced Felix to everyone in the training room, assigned Kingsley to be his assistant, and then hurriedly left.

……

Felix stood there quietly, his gaze sweeping over everyone. He saw many familiar faces, but even more strangers.

At that moment, Kingsley came over from one corner of the field, followed by several human-shaped targets and cushions, which were taken from a row of wooden boxes in the corner.

“Thank you, Shakel,” Felix said, flipping his wrist to reveal a black jade wand that drew some attention. He spoke calmly.

"If nothing unexpected happens, I will be spending the next two weeks with you."

"I will show you some of the secrets of ancient runes. Due to time constraints, I can only select the parts that are most attractive to you. I think you have recently seen related introductions in the newspapers. That's right, it's the part that combines ancient runes with modern magic."

"Before we officially begin—before I make any demands of you—I'd like you to see what skills you'll be learning. I believe this will help us get along better and prevent any unpleasantness from happening..."

He flicked his wand swiftly, and a flash of fire appeared.

"boom!"

A golden fireball exploded on the humanoid target, the viscous flames clinging to the mangled limbs, crackling and popping continuously. Standing in the front row, Tonks felt the shockwave of the spell sweep over her head, a wave of heat scorching her hair, and she couldn't help but click her tongue in amazement.

“The ‘Flame’ rune combined with the Fireball spell,” Felix explained, “is powerful enough to break through a typical Ironclad spell.”

The people present were discussing it animatedly.

“In addition, the ‘Flowing’ rune combined with the Armor Charm,” Felix waved his wand again, and a magical barrier appeared in front of him. It was a new type of Armor Charm, no longer colorless and transparent, but with a surface rippling with a blue light, like flowing blue waves or a bound wind.

“…It lasts longer and is more effective than regular spells,” Felix said. “Anyone want to try it?”

"Anyone want to give it a try?" Kingsley stepped forward when he asked a second time; this was when his role as an assistant came in handy. "We'll simulate a battlefield scenario, completing a round of attack and defense. You need to break through my defenses as much as possible."

Kingsley nodded silently, and the crowd parted to make room for the two of them.

Suddenly, Kingsley bent down, drew his wand, and chanted a spell in one smooth motion. Felix moved to the side and hid behind the blue magic barrier. With a soft "whoosh," the spell grazed the Ironclad Charm and deflected past.

Kingsley strode forward, and spells flew out swiftly. Felix slightly adjusted the direction of the Ironclad Spell, preventing the spells from landing in the same spot. Under everyone's gaze, the blue light of the magic barrier pulsed violently, and ripples spread across its surface. The previously damaged and cracked spells were smoothed out by an invisible hand.

The onlookers counted silently until the fifth spell collided head-on with the Ironclad Spell, at which point it flickered and disappeared.

Many people—especially the strikers—stared at the two men, a significant portion of whom struggled to even execute a complete Ironclad Charm. It wasn't that they couldn't use it, but rather that they found it difficult to apply in actual combat, a situation related to the law enforcement scenarios they faced.

The Strikers are like regular police officers, not SWAT teams; they deal with routine law enforcement tasks. In other words, they don't face terrorists, but rather lawless wizarding civilians who would find it difficult to confront the Ministry of Magic.

True dark wizards are few in number and are generally assigned to Aurors, who possess higher overall abilities. The magical world is ultimately about peace and order, not chaos and disorder. The Strikers have always operated in this way for years. However, recently, for some unknown reason, Scrimgeour persuaded Amelia Borns and Pierce Sinkness, both high-ranking officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to impose higher requirements on Strikers and Aurors. One of these requirements was to open up a pathway for Strikers to become Aurors.

It's a well-known fact that Aurors are treated far better than hitters. Many people aspire to that level.

“Teach, professor…?” A young voice broke the silence.

Felix looked at the young man and smiled: "Abbot Balk?" His gaze fell on the bearded wizard. If he remembered correctly, Balk had mentioned that he had an Auror uncle, and he happened to see an Auror named "David Balk" in the records.

“It’s me,” said young Balk, his school-era acne finally gone, making him appear much more mature. But his speech betrayed his immaturity: “I’ve heard there are many spells more advanced than the Ironclad Charm. Why don’t we learn those spells?”

His uncle stared at him, his thick fingers rubbing together repeatedly, as if he wanted to teach his nephew a lesson.

Abbott Balk couldn't help but shrink back.

“Oh, Balk,” Felix said gently, “there are indeed many profound spells, but profound means complex, and complex means precise and prone to error… On the battlefield, the most intolerable thing is unnecessary error. You will find that avoiding the use of unfamiliar spells is a consensus, and those who violate it will pay the price.”