A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"This means that during your exam, you may encounter some very obscure ancient magical scripts that you won't be able to find even after searching through five years' worth of ancient magical script textbooks."

“Professor, what should we do?” said a Ravenclaw witch, who wore a very distinctive pair of thick glasses.

“Miss Vera, this involves a bit of test-taking skills, such as inferring the meaning of words.”

"Guess the meaning of the words?" Vera pushed up her glasses and asked, puzzled.

"In the ancient runes textbooks for sixth and seventh grade, a considerable amount of space is devoted to explaining the evolution of ancient runes. For example, Eoh has gone through seven versions, each with slightly different meanings and writing styles."

"But in fact, once you understand its evolutionary logic, you will find that its core meaning has never really changed."

Vera nodded; she knew all of this.

Professor Hyp continued, "Therefore, as long as you know one version of the ancient runes, you can make reasonable inferences based on its core meaning and the context."

"Even for those magical runes you've never encountered before, you can make reasonable inferences based on their word forms. This requires using the 27 most common evolutionary forms..."

"Of course, magical runes that have magical power and are not in this range need to be memorized separately, but there are not many of them."

Marcus next to her looked desperate. What are you talking about?

Why do I recognize each word individually, but when they're put together, it's like reading gibberish?

“I understand, Professor Hyp,” Vera said excitedly.

In this class, she was the only one who truly loved ancient magical script and was determined to pursue this path, although her research focus was on document translation.

This was actually influenced by her family—her grandfather was the vice president of the Ancient Magic Rune Association.

When she returned home for the Christmas holidays and mentioned that Felix Heap was the new Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, her grandfather's glaring and furious expression was quite amusing.

While he vehemently denounced Felix as "a heretic who has gone astray," he also shyly admitted that "he is indeed very capable, and you can learn from him to some extent," which made her place Professor Hyp on the same level as her grandfather in her mind.

“Let’s continue—” After dealing with the routine questions, Felix’s gaze fell on Marcus: “Flint, your grades have been hovering around A (passing grade) for a while now, and I’m quite worried about you.”

Marcus looked miserable. He had really put a lot of effort into Ancient Runes, even carrying an Ancient Runes textbook in his bag while training on the Quidditch pitch—though he had only opened it once.

But at least his attitude was there; he hadn't been this attentive in any other class. Unfortunately, he just wasn't cut out for it. Marcus wanted to quit, but he trembled at the sight of Felix and simply couldn't muster the courage.

“Teach, Professor, I will try my best,” Marcus said tremblingly.

"Great, feel free to ask me if you have any questions."

Felix began formal lessons, and in this small classroom, the top students and the underachievers were clearly separated. The top students became more and more attentive as they listened, while the underachievers became more and more confused. Marcus was an exception—he was an underachiever, but he forced himself to present the appearance of a top student.

A class passed by quickly.

Felix left with a stack of parchment; in his hand were the homework of seventh-grade students.

Today, he received holiday homework from three grades. Felix decided to fully utilize his assistant's enthusiasm for learning, making the most of her talents by assigning her all the third and fourth grade homework.

In the evening, Felix casually flipped through Professor Flitwick's Christmas gift—a manuscript of ancient magic.

The parchment bears two kinds of writing: one is an extremely ancient and ancient magical script, and the other is Professor Flitwick's supplement and annotations, which contain his research ideas on this magic.

Very inspiring.

However, according to Professor Flitwick, he did not have any special talent in ancient runes, so this incomplete ancient magic was a collaborative research project between him and the former professor of ancient runes, Barbling. When Professor Barbling left Hogwarts for vacation, the research came to a standstill.

Sending the manuscript to Felix was also an invitation to collaborate on research.

Felix waved his wand, and a hazy, pale blue light, like a galaxy, streaked through the air and landed on a quill pen.

The brown quill first turned into a toothpick, then rapidly expanded to the size of a cane. As Felix continued to infuse it with magic, the quill grew to about seven feet long and then refused to move.

"Hmm, the effect is similar to combining the shrinking spell and the enlarging spell, but it doesn't have the characteristics of high consumption, high danger, and high intensity of ancient magic."

"It's more like modern simplified magic, with a limit to both power and mana consumption."

"Is it because supplementing it simplifies the approach to magic?"

Felix scribbled and drew on the parchment, preparing for a long battle; restoring ancient magic was no easy task.

'I really wish I had a teacher,' he thought wistfully before going to sleep.

Chapter 90 Confinement and Discovery

A few hours ago, Ron experienced a thrilling stay in confinement.

At eight o'clock in the evening, he nervously knocked on Professor Lockhart's door and stammered that he had come to put him in solitary confinement.

"Is that so?" Lockhart looked sickly. "Oh, right, that's right! You little rascal..."

He dragged Ron into the office and shoved him into a chair.

"Hmm, the punishment... Let me think, how can I make you sincerely repent and weep with gratitude for Gilderoy Lockhart's greatness?"

Ron stared at him in disbelief. Lockhart's arrogance had worsened again.

"I've got it!" Lockhart exclaimed, pulling a bulging stack of envelopes from a cabinet in the corner.

"Professor, what is this?" Ron swallowed hard, hoping it wouldn't be...

“These are letters from enthusiastic fans, and I’ve collected some of them—they’re my absolute favorites! You need to copy them all down,” Lockhart said with great enthusiasm.

Things have taken a turn for the worst.

Ron thought that these letters combined were thicker than the two large books Malfoy copied.

He opened an envelope, pulled out a letter, and read: "Dearest Gilderolo, I am your most adorable and loyal reader, Moria. I fall asleep every night with your book in my arms because it has your most charming picture. Oh, Gilderolo, your curly hair is simply irresistible. I can't wait to embark on a great adventure with you in my dreams..."

"Ugh~" Ron almost threw up.

"Are you sick?" Lockhart asked him.

"without--"

"If you don't have any, start copying. This is your punishment for attacking the professor, no, it's your reward—to give you the privilege of experiencing my greatness alongside my readers."

Lockhart's words today were surprisingly blunt. Ron had originally thought he was like a peacock, at least hiding his backside when he spread his tail feathers.

But he had no choice; Ron had to force himself not to think at all, not to consider what the stuff he'd copied actually meant. But after writing just two lines, he felt nauseous again.

So he began to focus his attention on Lockhart, racking his brains to think of other things.

Two seats away from him, Lockhart also unfolded a piece of parchment, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote lines of flamboyant calligraphy on it, muttering, "Merlin, I'm so unlucky, I even have to apologize to that fool Fudge..."

Ron had a terrifying night because Lockhart seemed like a different person, revealing many secrets to him without any restraint.

He either complained that Dumbledore had deceived him, or he grumbled that Professor Hyp had stolen his thunder.

He also mentioned his school days, where he spent a lot of money buying himself a bunch of greeting cards for Valentine's Day, but it didn't make much of a splash, forcing him to endure two months of hardship because of it...

Midnight finally arrived, and Ron mustered his courage to ask to leave. Lockhart glanced at the clock on the wall. "Is it already this late? Go ahead, put the letter in the cupboard, and continue tomorrow."

Ron, carrying the stack of letters, huffed and puffed as he approached the large cabinet. He tried to pull on it, but the door wouldn't budge. "Professor Lockhart, the cabinet is locked!"

Lockhart muttered something, waved his wand, and on the third attempt, the cabinet door finally slammed open with a bang, nearly hitting Ron's nose.

Ron opened the cabinet, which contained more than a dozen small drawers. He didn't know where to put them, but he didn't dare to ask, so he could only pull out the drawers one by one to find the right space.

When he turned to a certain compartment, he saw a piece of parchment clipped together, and the top line of text made him stop looking.

"Armenian Visit to an Old Wizard (Note: Werewolf Adventure)".

He glanced at it twice more—

"If you disregard the fact that the protagonist is an ugly, old Armenian sorcerer, the story itself is quite fascinating."

There's a short passage that seems to record someone's words: "Yes, the people in that village are miserable. They constantly face the threat of werewolves. The initial reason was that they killed a wolf cub that had attacked livestock. It's truly tragic."

Ron's heart pounded. He didn't know why, but he quietly pulled out a few pages from the middle of the document—he didn't dare take the top page.

Lockhart's voice came from afar, "What are you dawdling about?"

"Right away, Professor Lockhart." Ron stuffed the few pages of parchment he had pulled out into his pocket, then haphazardly scattered the readers' letters into three drawers before hurriedly closing the cabinet.

"Professor, I'm off." Ron quickly ran out of Lockhart's office.

His heart was still pounding all the way.

Back in the common room, where there were hardly any people, he hid in a corner and carefully read the three parchments he had taken out of his pocket.

After watching for a while, he was a little confused. Although the content of the story seemed familiar, it was just an ordinary interview.

Did Lockhart also work part-time as a journalist?

Ron returned to his dormitory and saw Harry already asleep. He casually stuffed the parchment into a book and went to bed.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts remained peaceful and serene for the next week.

Without the worry of attacks or exams, the young wizards enjoyed a fantastic weekend.

Hermione finally took off her mask. Now she only needs to wear a hat to cover her cat ears, and she looks no different from her normal self.

"Lavender thought I had some terminal illness." Hermione took deep breaths of fresh air, her face flushed from the cold, but she had no intention of putting on a scarf.

“Who is Lavender?” Ron asked.

"She is my roommate."

Ron imagined it for a moment, then asked uncertainly, "Is it that girl with the freckles?"

“Not her, Ron. I thought you would remember the Gryffindor wizard from your year,” Hermione said sharply.

“I remember him, but I can’t quite place his face. And do you know Dean Thomas?” Ron countered.

"Of course!"

"Have you spoken to him?"

Hermione kept her mouth tightly shut.

That evening, Felix guided Hermione through the upgrade plan for the beaded pouch.

Felix looked at the parchment in his hand with interest: "You plan to partition off some space inside? Is it for storing things? Not a bad attempt, but it also increases the difficulty accordingly."

"Professor, do you think I can complete this given my skill level?" Hermione asked.

“Hmm… If you want to do it yourself, at least—” Felix thought for a moment, “you also need to learn 21 practical runes, become proficient in inscribing some rune circuits, plus some basic alchemical theory.”

"I can give you a reading list."

Felix quickly scribbled down a series of reference books, and Hermione's lips suddenly felt a little bitter...