A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Upon returning from Diagon Alley, Felix once again attempted to bypass the guardian gargoyle statue in front of the headmaster's office using his guardian charm. This time, he encountered no obstruction and found himself facing Dumbledore.

As he entered the office, portraits of former headmasters snored within their frames on the wall, while Dumbledore was engrossed in staring into the Pensieve.

Felix was taken aback hearing Rita Skeeter's voice echoing faintly. Her two-inch-long blood-red painted nails flickered within the Pensieve. With cunning, she said, "Oh, Dumbledore, you know, my book is about to be published..."

Muttering to himself, Dumbledore replied, "That's not a good idea... Felix?" He raised his head and with his wand, stirred the silvery substance within the Pensieve, causing Rita Skeeter's face, along with her bright nails, to vanish.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, you've been quite occupied lately, but I never expected you to be meeting with her," Felix chuckled. "Are you considering an autobiography? If so, seeking her help might not be a good idea."

This was in response to Dumbledore's earlier muttered comment when Felix had just arrived.

Dumbledore chuckled, his beard trembling. "There are many ways to leave a mark—magic portraits, the memories in Classroom 7, or simply living on in people's minds... but I don't think an autobiography is included in that."

Felix shrugged, idly playing with the silverware on the desk, watching it emit chirping noises and puff out wisps of smoke.

"Any findings?"

"Ah, aside from a few memories proving Voldemort's wickedness from an early age... not much worth noting. Also, I visited the seaside cave you mentioned, and I have to say, Felix, you were quite rough. I found nothing but ruins."

The two then discussed the Ironclad Curse briefly, Dumbledore displaying some interest before appearing somewhat weary. Felix took the initiative to bid his farewells.

"If you can, pay more attention to Madam Maxim," Dumbledore said from behind him.

Furrowing his brow, Felix asked, "She's suspicious?"

"No, not at all," Dumbledore whispered softly. "I don't believe she'd become one of Voldemort's lackeys. What concerns me is whether she can be our friend..." He looked troubled. "Hagrid has been given the cold shoulder by her lately."

...

The next encounter with Hagrid was at the end of the month.

Approaching December, the weather grew colder, especially after last night's snow and rain. Blue ice crystals adorned the ground, and students struggled through the courtyard wrapped in thick cloaks.

Following the crowd, Felix reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Beauxbatons' carriage was visible in the distance. A few students conjured a transparent ice slide nearby, sliding down from a height. Not far from them stood Hagrid's cabin.

A witch wearing a scarf sat quietly near the carriage, cradling a golden egg. Spotting Felix, she eagerly ran over.

"Professor Harp!"

"Miss Delacour?" Felix glanced at the strand of silver hair peeking from her scarf.

"Yes, it's me." Fleur unveiled her scarf, smiling sweetly. "Madam Maxim is waiting for you."

The carriage wasn't crowded, resembling a moving inn, partitioned into several spacious rooms. In the center lay a lounge akin to a college common room. It exuded warmth, adorned with Beauxbatons' characteristic clusters of pink and blue flowers, alongside a magical fountain emitting icy blue mists intertwined with fragrant scents.

Guided by Fleur, Felix passed through a door marked with the Beauxbatons emblem, arriving at the carriage's dining area. Madam Maxim was dining, wiping her mouth with a blue napkin and gesturing for him to sit.

Graciously thanking her, Felix peered through a round window, observing Hagrid's robust figure pacing in front of the pumpkin patch, conducting a class with a group of students.

"It's strange how anyone could like those creatures... the ones called Blast-Ended Skrewts or something?" Madam Maxim snorted, gesturing towards the blurry scenery in the distance with a fork adorned with blue patterns, several times larger than the ones Felix held.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Felix corrected as he picked up some seafood, a stock he guessed was brought from France as he had never seen such fish before. The quantity was limited, mixed with fish from the Black Lake. Whether provided by Hogwarts or caught by Beauxbatons' students themselves was unknown.

Madam Maxim seemed absent-minded, disinterestedly commenting, "I have no interest in magical creatures."

"I happen to know a magical creatures expert. Oh, not Hagrid, another one, Mr. Newt Scamander," Felix said. "He's retired now, but his younger days were quite adventurous. I had many conversations with him."

In truth, he conversed with Newt's memory in Classroom 7. Felix had recently discovered his unique advantage in building relationships with these memories.

Despite resembling humans, the memories were not truly so, more akin to ghosts. One significant difference was their lack of taste buds; they could only recall the tastes of foods they once enjoyed. Felix, however, could conjure up elaborate feasts from his mind—a specialty exclusive to ghosts and memories. Over the years, Newt expressed great nostalgia for everything in the Hogwarts kitchen, allowing Felix to glean intriguing information.

Such as how he was expelled.

Felix recounted some of Newt's adventures. Unlike the tales of "wizards battling dragons" usually heard by Madam Maxim and Fleur, Newt's experiences were filled with understanding and love for these magical creatures—he seldom used violent means against them, striving to befriend them instead.

"After rescuing that poor Thunderbird from Egyptian traffickers, he sent it back to America..."

"Mr. Scamander has a heart of gold, and animal emotions are more genuine. I was being narrow-minded," Madam Maxim said sentimentally, her large glass of juniper berry gin now empty.

"What happened next?" Fleur inquired.

"I'm not sure," Felix spread his hands. "Perhaps a romantic love story followed. He met a lady. I assume they're playing a game of Throw the Flesh Ball at the Mooncalf together?"

Using this as a segue, he discussed the current situation of French werewolves.

"I know what you're talking about," Madam Maxim interjected. "The Wolfsbane Potion, a remarkable invention. Our Ministry imported a batch, frankly, quite expensive... so our Minister is negotiating here, hoping to acquire the potion's formula."

She expressed some discontent, saying, "Your Minister behaves like a savvy merchant, asking for quite a lot from us."

"He doesn't respect Madam Maxim!" Fleur exclaimed sharply.

Felix glanced over. Madam Maxim shook her head slightly, but her eyes were reddened, prompting him to wonder what Fudge had said or demonstrated. Wisely, he refrained from asking.

Subsequently, the three at the table silently finished their meals. Madam Maxim then gazed back at Hagrid's pumpkin patch. In the distance, a massive Blast-Ended Skrewt's tail emitted sparks, propelling the students forward, dragging them across the snow, eliciting gleeful shouts.

"Oh my!" Madam Maxim chuckled.

>

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