A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

The next morning, the table atmosphere in the auditorium was very lively.

Many of the little wizards had finished their exams, and they were talking loudly, ready to enjoy the last leisurely time before the holiday. They had every reason to be happy, because as a rule, except for a few students who failed the test spell, the professors would not have any requirements for their coursework, and especially would not leave homework.

"We have one last exam." Ron kept poking at the fried eggs on the plate with his fork.

"In another way, we'll have nearly two weeks of free time by the end of today." Hermione said comforting words with food stuffed in her mouth. Harry agreed, but his eyes subconsciously glanced at Neville. The subject of the test is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they want to see 'Professor Bagshot' again.

"No, the consolation for me is that the fifth and seventh grade exams are still going," Ron cheered. "How many exams are Ginny still up?"

"Four doors," said Harry.

Ron sighed contentedly when a large group of owls flew in, folded their wings and landed on the dining table, tinkling the plates. Six or seven owls surrounded Dumbledore on the teacher's bench, and Professor Marchban next to him seemed to be allergic to owls and kept sneezing.

Harry watched with relish, until Ron let out a pained cry, and he turned his head to find a grey owl on the table in front of him, its beak as if it had just been released from Ron's fingers.

"It bit me!" exclaimed Ron aggrieved, picking up the letter that had fallen on the table angrily. "I want to see whose owl this is—oh," his tone became low. , "It's from Bill."

He opened the letter and read it quickly, the expression on his face went from shock to joy, and before Harry could say anything, he said with a bright face.

"It's Bill and Fleur, they're going to get married this summer—Merlin's beard! Well, the letter said that the time is not yet certain, and they want to count the itineraries of some important guests, which are tentatively scheduled for early August, and they let me drop by. Ask you guys—you won't come, will you?" Ron pressed on confirming.

"Of course I will come."

"Yeah, you have to be there."

Harry and Hermione spoke quickly.

Ron read the letter again contentedly, raised his head and said in surprise, "I don't know how Bill convinced Mom to accept Fleur, but her attitude has always been... um-maybe Mom finally admits Bill and Don. There is absolutely no hope for the two of them."

"Tonks and Lupin are engaged," Harry reminded.

"Yeah, I think that's the reason." Ron said, "Mom's wish was completely lost." He put the letter away, and the three of them finished breakfast, happily preparing for today's Defence Against the Dark Arts exam. .

At the professor's chair, Felix opened the letter, which contained a rather formal invitation. He glanced at it. The letter was written in rock and roll English and signed Bill Weasley. He looked at Dumbledore, who was quietly putting away an official letter.

"International Confederation of Wizards?" Grindelwald, who was sitting on the other side of him, asked suddenly.

"Babajid asked me for advice on the new law. Poor man, he was faced with such a dire situation when he took office." Dumbledore said calmly: "Actually, he has done well in the past, but he just lacked a little confidence. ."

Grindelwald was dubious, his eyes narrowed in thought. Felix asked, "Headmaster Dumbledore, have you heard from the Weasleys?"

"Ah, I see." Dumbledore picked up an envelope with his slender fingers and looked at the inscription, "It's Arthur and Molly, let me see what they said? Oh, oh—wedding, again. A pair of beautiful people in pairs!"

Professor Marchban was desperately leaning back and fanning the air in front of him, trying to keep himself away from the owl. "Let me go, I can't stand this!" she shouted. After Professor McGonagall helped her out of the dining table, Dumbledore continued happily: "The scene of Arthur and Molly walking in the moonlight seems like yesterday, but in a blink of an eye their child is about to enter the palace of marriage. Time is a fascinating thing!"

"I think," he turned to look at Felix, and said expectantly, "Sirius and Amelia, and Remus and Tonks, these two pairs are pretty solid, right?"

Felix nodded.

"Then I have to prepare at least three gifts. In the two or three years since the end of the last war, I have also received many wedding invitations one after another." Dumbledore stood up and tiptoed excitedly, "and these Compared with the good news, official business is too dull and boring, and I have to remind Babajid that he is now the president of the International Confederation of Wizards."

Grindelwald was silent for a moment as he stared at the back he was leaving, as if asking and talking to himself: "Is what he said true?"

"Which point? The principal said a lot," Felix asked.

"Yes," said Grindelwald slowly, "he talks a lot."

At the edge of the long dining table, Snape calmly glanced at a few people out of the corner of his eye, with various thoughts running through his mind. Dumbledore is hiding too many things - he is very sure that he is definitely not alone in enjoying this treatment, such as Felix, McGonagall, and even the mysterious Bagshot, are all part of Dumbledore's plan . But no one can see the whole picture.

For example, he believed that no third person in this world would know that the Elder Wand on Dumbledore's body had quietly changed its owner at this moment.

What was Dumbledore trying to do?

Snape put down the cutlery indifferently and turned to leave the auditorium. He didn't believe at all in Dumbledore's nonsense, saying 'better to be a permanent mystery', saying 'that's your business', if Dumbledore really wants the Elder Wand to disappear, just let himself live to the end of his life That's it, he didn't believe that anyone would dare to attack Dumbledore.

Unless he's guarding someone. Snape paused and looked at Felix at the dining table.

Then he walked through the long hallway and up the spiral staircase. What Dumbledore said that night came out in full force, 'I hope it will never be useful one day, preferably a permanent mystery, which means no major changes in the wizarding world'.

Big change... Snape chewed those words and pushed open the classroom door.

Dumbledore sensed some kind of danger, but he wasn't sure if and when. In this case, it would be unwise to let a powerful wand disappear from history, so I am the second hand arranged by Dumbledore, a temporary custodian of the ownership of the Elder Wand?

Who is Dumbledore's ideal heir?

As soon as Snape opened the door, he saw Harry sitting in the front seat, and he felt a strong sense of disgust in his heart. He would never believe that Dumbledore would choose Potter, even if he was already strong in combat. Exceeding oneself... Combat power?

Snape's body stiffened, and if one speculates from this angle, the range for Dumbledore to choose is actually very small.

Harry stared blankly at Snape, his mind hadn't turned around yet, how could Snape appear in the exam room? And why is his expression so strange?

"boom!"

Snape slammed the door shut and strode up to the podium with what seemed to be frost on his face. Then, with a sharp wave of his wand, stacks of test papers flew out of the locked cabinets in the classroom and landed precisely in front of the students.

"The time is now—nine o'clock, and you have two hours to answer."

The students looked at each other and whispered to each other.

"Silence," Snape exclaimed, and the sixth graders felt the long-lost low air pressure over the classroom again.

"Where's Professor Bagshot?" Neville asked boldly.

"He's still alive, but—" Snape said slowly, staring at him indifferently, and Neville turned pale, but what? Harry's heart also hung up. "But you can only see him in the afternoon. I will invigilate the sixth-grade written test. Now shut up - the test begins!"

They hurriedly bowed their heads, opened the papers and began to answer, Harry thought while answering, Snape seemed angry, was it because he was coming to invigilate them? From his words, Professor Bagshot should still be in school.

For the next two hours, the classroom was silent except for the rustling sound of a quill rubbing against the test paper. After the exam, the students filed out in the hallway discussing why Snape was proctoring them.

"Maybe Professor Bagshot is sick," said one student.

"He was fine in the morning, and didn't Snape say that he was in charge of the practice assessment in the afternoon."

Seeing the worried look on Neville's face, Harry felt a wave of worry in his heart. He took the opportunity to tell Hermione about it at lunch, and Hermione held up her fork and thought about it for a while.

"There's only so much we can do about this, Harry," Hermione said in a dejected voice, and she saw Harry want to open his mouth to retort, and reached out to stop him by shaking his fork twice, "Neville wants to do it for Professor Bagshot. Order something, it's the same way you saw off Lupin back then."

"Of course it's different!" Harry cried, and a few people around him looked over, and he said in a low voice, "At least I won't be hurt, but G-but that man," he said calmly, "I saw him with my own eyes. What he did - although only in memory - many innocent people died because of him! That's why I declined his subsequent invitations. In case he wanted to do something dangerous to Neville... "

"People can change, he's been in prison for fifty years, hasn't he?" Hermione whispered, "Besides, didn't we analyze that he was subject to strict spellcasting restrictions?"

"I feel pity for a Dark Lord with a special wand," Ron muttered.

Harry was sulking alone. He felt that he had a partial favorable impression of Grindelwald before, and the suspicion of beautification in his verbal description made Ron and Hermione fail to realize the seriousness of the problem.

After the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam in the afternoon, Harry ignored Ron and Hermione's strange eyes and caught up with Neville and asked, "Nah, Neville, did Professor Bagshot tell you something alone?"

"He said I did well." Neville beamed.

"Oh, I mean, other than these—"

"You want to know when Professor Bagshot leaves school?" Neville looked at him.

Harry hesitated, then nodded.

"Did you ask him?"

"I asked, he said he wasn't sure," Neville said softly. "But he gave me this." One of the seven kinds of looking-glasses I've ever seen, with a hair of Professor Bagshot hidden in it."

Harry gave Ron and Hermione a meaningful look.

"—it's just bad," panted Neville, and Harry was dumbfounded. "Bad, bad?" he stammered. Neville looked at Harry strangely. "Yeah, it's just a souvenir. Professor Bagshot gave it to me."

"Can I take a look, Neville?" Hermione said in an unusual tone. "Well, I didn't know that Professor Bagshot had researched on ancient runes."

Neville confidently handed her the glass ball.

"Mine is his early work, obviously it didn't work out. In fact, Professor Bagshot has been interested in ancient rune very early, hasn't it, Harry?"

"Yes... I did see a lot of related books in his office and discussed them together." Harry said in a daze, the images of the past surging in his heart, and he suddenly felt a strong sense of guilt. He looked at Hermione, expecting to hear from her that there was no hidden magic trick in it.

He wished he had guessed wrong.

"The workmanship is exquisite, and the patterns are depicted." After a few minutes, Hermione said, and she returned the glass ball to Neville, "But it is indeed broken, and the rune structure inside is incomplete."

"Professor Bagshot told me the same," Neville said. "The pattern on it is one of his favorites, and you can see it on his clothes."

"Like Professor Slughorn's gold buttons?" Ron grinned mockingly.

Neville couldn't help but glared at him and retorted bluntly: "Professor Bagshot has clearly better taste." When he left, Hermione shook her head at Harry and Ron.

"You heard what you just said. I really didn't find any problems."

"Well, alas—that's for the best," said Harry with a sigh of relief, a stone falling to his chest.

The next few days were uneventful. Ginny's O.W.Ls exam was coming to an end, and Harry also took time to go to the headmaster's office to finish the last class. When Dumbledore announced the end of the class, he was a little reluctant.

"You have almost seen the history of the past hundred years through my perspective, but this does not mean that you have the same wisdom as me. It takes enough time to digest, this process may be short, or it may take a lifetime." Dumble Lido said softly.

The blue eyes of the old man on the opposite side seemed to be full of enthusiasm and anticipation. Harry looked away slightly, and his eyes fell on the stack of official letters and a copy of "The Poet Bedouin Tales" on the desk.

Dumbledore stared at Harry, noticed where his eyes stopped, and explained casually: "That is an official letter from the International Federation of Wizards, and they have been sending it almost every day recently... I am indeed procrastinating."

Harry actually wanted to ask what the storybook had to say and why it was on the desk, but the timing was clearly not right, and he made up his mind to talk about the subject in a more relaxed atmosphere.

"How am I going to digest—" Harry didn't finish his sentence.

"Doing the right thing, Harry. Not the easy thing," said Dumbledore, "and thinking hard. It seems like a bad idea, but from what I've observed, there are quite a few people who can take the flesh. The torment of the world, but the pain of loneliness and thinking cannot be endured."

Harry nodded understandingly.

"Then—it's time to talk about your soul fragments."