A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

The young wizards were fervently discussing, their excitement palpable. As fifth-year students, they rarely encountered such intriguing courses – every professor was pushing them to explore their potentials to the fullest.

Of course, to some extent, this was also a debt owed for the preceding four years.

In the corridor, Warren Parldis was somewhat annoyed as he said to his friend, "I could have won, it's just that luck wasn't on my side."

"You were too aggressive; you got at least ten questions wrong," his friend replied.

The young wizards exited the classroom in a bustling crowd, and Felix Harp rubbed his slightly sore fingers.

The "visual effects" of this knowledge competition were conjured up by his magic, one spell after another. From the nine-square grid to score changes, and even to the color feedback for correct and incorrect answers, he had orchestrated it all.

"Miscalculation, I should switch to a ten-point scale next time."

During the afternoon's two lessons, Felix attempted this in both the sixth and seventh years, with remarkably successful results. Even the "trouble-prone students" in Ancient Runes were staying alert in class.

This clarified his thoughts.

"In the future, I can incorporate more of these game-like teaching methods, but only if I prepare thoroughly." In the evening cafeteria, Felix halfheartedly speared a potato dripping with black sauce. After a whole day, he felt rather drained.

Little by little, today's spellcasting tally had clearly exceeded the limit.

In the common room.

The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were controlling magical puppets in a duel, having completed their second and third sets of practical runic scripts.

Their duel was highly entertaining; every punch Fred's magical puppet threw released a circle of crackling electricity, making "zapping" sounds. Lee Jordan was so close that his hair stood on end.

George, on the other side, was not to be outdone. His magical puppet was the popular "Fire Boy," and each time he conjured the iconic "big fireball," it elicited waves of applause.

At this moment, Percy Weasley entered the common room from outside. He had just finished a patrol. Upon seeing him, Ron quickly turned his head away in the corner.

The two of them were still at odds.

"Ron, haven't you two made up yet?" Hermione asked with concern.

"Unless he apologizes to me," Ron stubbornly declared.

Harry sighed. He didn't have much to say, after all, Ron had shouldered the blame for all three of them, losing face.

"Hey! Percy, heard you got a perfect score from Professor Harp today?" a Gryffindor asked.

Percy proudly puffed out his chest, making his Prefect badge more prominent. "Yes, Professor Harp tried a new teaching method. I have to admit, he's quite wise."

"And you beat Slytherin!"

Percy modestly replied, "It was just a competition. Oh, by the way, on the ten-point scale, I was nine points ahead of my opponent."

Another round of admiration swept through the Gryffindors. Percy truly deserved his reputation as the top student with twelve O.W.L.s.

"Nine points ahead!" Ron repeated disdainfully.

Harry quickly changed the subject, "Hermione, did you ask Professor Harp about the serpent creature?"

Hermione shook her head. "I hardly see the professor from Monday to Friday." Unless she had papers to grade.

"But waiting until the weekend is too late!" Harry protested, frustrated. "What if there's another attack in between…"

He slammed the table, startling two passing young wizards who looked at Harry fearfully and quickly moved past.

"See, they all think I'm the culprit!"

"Harry, how about we go see Professor Harp now?" Hermione cautiously suggested.

Harry glanced at the clock; it was already past nine in the evening. "Tomorrow." He slumped in his chair, deflated like a punctured balloon.

They were fairly certain that the monster in the Chamber was a serpent, and about Hermione's puzzlement—how the serpent's gaze was lethal—despite the two recent attacks only causing petrification, Harry had his own theory: the victims weren't directly meeting the serpent's gaze. Madam Pomfrey had seen through a reflection in water, and Colin Creevey had captured it through a camera lens.

But whether this was correct remained to be confirmed, considering the scarcity of evidence.

At this moment, Ron said to him, "Harry, is Professor Harp's magic puppet in your bag?"

"Yes." Harry replied weakly.

He had practiced in secret a few times, but he still lacked some skills. Just now, he had managed to make the puppet walk normally.

"How about we give it a try?" Ron glanced at Percy in the crowd.

"Here?" Harry was unsure.

Hermione's eyes lit up; she had been wanting to try it since the start of term during the public class. She had a soft spot for its design.

Ice-blue hair, an exquisitely cute face, it resonated perfectly with her heart.

"Maybe... this isn't the best choice..." Hermione said with a double meaning, but she didn't stop Harry from taking out the magic puppet from his bag.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Fred walked over, his arm around George's shoulder.

"Oh, just a magic puppet." Ron tried to sound nonchalant.

Fred saw the puppet in Harry's hand and was taken aback. "This is no ordinary puppet." Just from its appearance, there was no comparison between the two.

"Given by Professor Harp," Ron said.

Fred picked up the magic puppet. "This thing...," he looked at George, "I can hardly sense its magical aura. It's even more refined than a Diagon Alley haunted doll—far superior to anything we've dismantled."

"You've dismantled—"

"Shush!" Fred raised a finger. "Lower your voice. This is our little secret with Professor Harp..."

George took the puppet, casually saying, "Once we accidentally damaged a magical puppet we had."

"It was 'accidentally' damaged; we were really scared at the time—" Fred said.

"Worried about losing points, getting detention—"

"Or being hung up and whipped with a wet belt—"

"So we nervously apologized—"

"Then what happened? Did you receive any punishment?" Ron asked.

"No, little Ronnie," Fred winked, a mischievous grin on his face, "Professor Harp said we had a knack for alchemy and awarded each of us ten points. However—"

George sighed, "When we presented the pieces of the second broken puppet to him, he had to restrain himself from deducting points."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

George studied the exquisitely detailed magic puppet, occasionally uttering words of admiration. Finally, he handed it back to Harry. "Impressive work. What did you guys do?"

"It's—" Ron was about to speak but was viciously stomped on the foot by Hermione.

The twins exchanged a glance and shrugged.

Fred said, "Want us to demonstrate for you? This puppet must have a lot of new functions. I don't think you guys are quite proficient yet."

"Who says! Harry, show us what you've got."

Harry withdrew his wand and, with its guidance, the magic puppet stood up with a sway and a wobble.

A few young wizards looked over from a distance.

Harry struggled to control the magic puppet, but unfortunately, at best, it could only scatter a few ice-blue snowflakes.

"Harry, your control isn't enough," Fred pointed out.

Harry pointed his wand at the magic puppet, feeling like he had touched its core. So, he focused all his attention, attempting to awaken the dormant runic circuitry.

His magic connected to a world of ice and snow. The sharpness and coldness were akin to gulping down ten ice pops in a breath, freezing his consciousness.

Harry's face turned purple from the cold, and he exhaled a breath of frost.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron stood up in a fluster. At this moment, anyone could tell something was off.

However, in the next second—

"Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!"

The magic puppet suddenly lit up, and light blue ice crystals fell one after another. The temperature around dropped sharply. "She" raised her arm abruptly, and a series of ice-blue pillars shot up from the ground, cold air spreading out like rolling waves.

The group watched in astonishment.

In front of the palm-sized magic puppet, a row of half-height ice pillars extended seven or eight meters, thoroughly sealing the entrance to the common room.

Cold mist filled the air, and the young wizards in the common room collectively sneezed.

Meanwhile, in his office, Professor Harp was sipping tea with a contented smile, leafing through an ancient alchemy book.

Beside him was that day's edition of the "Daily Prophet." The headline read: "Good vs. Evil: Vast Discrepancy Between Two New Professors," authored by Rita Skeeter.

Ahem! During the May Day holiday, everyone wants to go out and play (including the author). Therefore, there won't be any additional updates this weekend. I'll do my best to keep the updates stable at two chapters.

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