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Chapter 352: A Patronus (Dementor) Disguised as a Ghost?
Chapter 352: A Patronus (Dementor) Disguised as a Ghost?
As usual, the first-year students were ferried across the lake by Hagrid, while the other students rode in carriages along the path to the school's main gate.
The Great Hall.
"Sir, this way, please—" Peeves, flipping and bowing in the air, led a stranger ghost into the Great Hall. This tall ghost was well-covered, and only a pair of silver, emotionless eyes could be seen from under the cloak.
Peeves said with a grin, "I won't disturb you further. I have things to do... I've prepared plenty of water balloons for the new students. Don't you want to see the balloons explode over those cute little heads?"
The ghost remained silent. As Peeves turned to leave, a large silver hand emerged from under the cloak, swiftly grabbing the back of Peeves' neck and shaking him vigorously.
Peeves struggled a couple of times but couldn't break free, instead swaying rhythmically and floating helplessly, looking utterly frustrated.
Peeves was a spirit born within the castle, and compared to ordinary ghosts, he had greater powers. While typical ghosts could only slightly interfere with the physical world, Peeves could match the strength of the students and even wrestle with them.
There were a few things that made Peeves wary:
First, the professors. As a manifestation of the students' collective emotions, Peeves' fear of the professors was ingrained in his very being. Despite his mischievous nature and sharp tongue, he truly feared the professors who exuded authority and integrity.
Second, powerful wizards who could influence him, such as Headmaster Dumbledore and Felix Hepworth.
Third, exceptional ghosts, like Baron Blood, and—
Peeves, small in stature, looked up at the tall, cold ghost and muttered a curse. The silver eyes under the ghost's cloak suddenly turned to him, and Peeves immediately plastered a goofy smile on his face, rubbing his fingers together nervously.
The ghosts in the Great Hall were buzzing with conversation—
"Another newcomer?" Nearly Headless Nick, the resident ghost of Gryffindor House, said with a sentimental tone.
"Looks like a tough one", the Fat Friar from Hufflepuff said cheerfully. "That's good; someone needs to keep Peeves in line."
"Indeed, you're right", Nearly Headless Nick agreed. "Ever since Baron Blood left..." He glanced around meaningfully, drawing nods and murmurs of agreement, along with complaints about Peeves' misdeeds.
"By the way", a ghost asked, "does anyone still have Peeves' photo?"
"The one where the twins chased Peeves around the castle with fans?" Nearly Headless Nick asked with interest, a satisfied smile on his face. "I do; I traded five secrets for it."
"What about a viewing session?" the ghost suggested.
About a year ago, during Felix's first year, he faced Peeves' taunts and cast a Confundus Charm, confusing Peeves' sense of time and making him believe he had just been born. Unable to handle the chaotic and mischievous thoughts of the students, Peeves became dazed and disoriented.
His old nemesis, the Weasley Twins, took advantage of the situation, conjuring two fans and parading Peeves around the castle, almost holding a successful party. Unfortunately, Professor Mcgonagall intervened, much to the disappointment of many young wizards and all the ghosts.
One of the onlookers snapped a photo of the spectacle, which later became highly sought after. However, when Peeves recovered, he became furious and reclaimed most of the photos.
During that time, Moaning Myrtle roamed through every girls' bathroom on each floor, recounting Peeves' bullying to every student.
...
At the teacher's table, Felix and Professor Mcgonagall continued their discussion from Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Flitwick joined them, and they talked about which spells should be included in the "essential" category.
Professor Mcgonagall said seriously, "If possible, I would prefer that young wizards master all the knowledge. Every lesson is important."
"Minerva, if we want to make a change, we must consider how to make it acceptable to the students", Flitwick said in a high-pitched voice.
Professor Mcgonagall huffed. She, of course, knew this, but her expectations for her students were simply too high.
Felix nodded gently. "My idea is to break these spells down and distribute them across different years. For example, the Disarming Charm could be taught in third year and tested in fourth year. Apparition, on the other hand, might be more suitable for sixth year lessons and seventh year exams."
He added, "The purpose of the exams is not to grade but to ensure that they truly master these spells. Therefore, I believe the exam times should be as flexible as possible, with no limit on the number of attempts."
Flitwick pondered for a moment before speaking. "That's not a bad idea. If all the exams are concentrated in the final year, most students will likely procrastinate. Severus, what do you think?"
"I have no objections. You haven't included potions, after all", Snape said coldly.
"About that..." Flitwick stammered, "You are one of the regular professors for the Dueling Club, aren't you? You should know that defensive dark magic has always been a weak point for students, and the Dueling Club helps fill in some of those gaps."
"Lupin did a good job last year", Professor Mcgonagall interjected.
"I understand", Flitwick said, "And so did Belby. They were both excellent, but..."
He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "We all know what this course is like—each professor only teaches for one year. I don't deny that Dumbledore has done his best to find excellent wizards to teach this course, but being an excellent wizard and an excellent professor are two different things."
"Being good at something doesn't mean you can teach it", Felix concluded.
"Exactly!" Flitwick's eyes lit up. "That's it! A good professor needs extensive experience and an understanding of the various challenges students face. This process can take several years, but for this course's professors, it's simply not feasible."
"Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, though both teach spells, have very different focuses. I teach general practical magic, including various fundamentals, while the offensive and defensive spells used in duels fall under the purview of Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Unfortunately, the professors for this course are the most unstable. A good teacher can make a significant difference, but an unsuitable or inexperienced one can turn the class into a mess."
The professors fell silent, mentally listing the names of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors over the years, each one fitting into a particular slot.
Felix also reflected on the professors he had encountered, both during his studies and his career. To be honest, someone like Lockhart was already the lowest of the low. Most were just mediocre or not adept at teaching. They often made simple concepts overly complicated, leaving young wizards confused, or they spoke from their own experiences without effectively addressing the students' issues.
There was also the underlying problem that this course lacked a coherent plan. Professors like Flitwick and Mcgonagall, with their extensive experience, taught from first year to graduation, knowing each student's strengths and weaknesses and providing targeted guidance.
The curriculum for each year was clear, with well-defined goals and feedback mechanisms.
But when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts, just following the textbook was considered a good effort. Professors like Lupin, who genuinely cared about their students and tried to fill in the gaps, were few and far between.
Most taught according to their own preferences, jumping from one topic to another without a clear structure.
As a result, some students, after seven years, would be surprised to find they had heard the same lessons from seven different professors.
...
Snape snorted disdainfully. Wasn't this the truth? What was there to discuss? He glanced a few times at the new ghost in the corner, suspecting a connection to Felix. The ghost's bright cloak looked eerily familiar.
Moreover, the ghost had not spoken a single word, maintaining a cold and distant demeanor, which made Nearly Headless Nick retreat awkwardly after attempting to strike up a conversation.
The Great Hall buzzed with noise as the students' carriages pulled up to the entrance. They ran into the castle, drenched by the rain, chattering excitedly, and the school immediately filled with a lively atmosphere.
Felix fell silent, his eyes gleaming. The ghosts in the corner of the Great Hall suddenly became active, grabbing Peeves and flying toward the entrance hall.
The students stepped into the cavernous entrance hall, shaking off the rainwater with the help of the torches hanging high on the walls.
"Merlin's beard", Ron said, shaking his head vigorously, sending water droplets flying everywhere. "We're drenched."
Harry silently wrung out his sleeves, squeezing out a large puddle of water. His shoes and pants were soaked, weighing him down, and his hair clung to his head, dripping wet.
"Wh-what is that—" Neville shouted, his face pale with shock, having arrived in the same carriage as them.
The others around them looked up, gazing at the marble steps leading to the Great Hall. At the entrance, in the flickering light, a tall figure hovered in mid-air, backlit by the bright light of the Great Hall. The figure wore a long cloak that billowed in the wind, and its silver eyes were cold and distant.
"What's in his hand?" someone in the distance noticed the commotion.
"A first-year?" someone else speculated, but the figure seemed too short, like a small turnip head.
"Impossible, they should still be on the lake. Wait—" a senior student’s eyes widened, "That's Peeves!"
"Peeves being carried? Blimey!"
"No, that's a Dementor!" a student with particularly poor eyesight screamed.
The air froze, and the students gasped, their bodies trembling in fear, causing chaos.
"Ex-pec-to Pat-ro-num!" Harry drew his wand and shouted.
Silver light spread across the ground, and a silver stag emerged from his wand, bounding fearlessly towards the 'Dementor.'
Harry didn't have time to wonder why a Dementor would suddenly appear in the castle. He watched his Patronus with hope, certain it would do its job as it always had.
"Zzzt~"
Harry wondered if he was seeing things, but the tall 'Dementor' extended its free hand and caught the stag's antlers, forcing the Patronus to stop.
He blinked in disbelief. His glasses were a bit blurry, but he couldn't have mistaken such a large Patronus.
Ron stammered, "Is this the leader of the Dementors? Look at its height, it's not impossible..."
Hermione, trembling, pulled out her wand and tried to defend herself, "Ex-pec-to Pat-ro-num!"
"Expecto Patronum!" a seventh-year student shouted, and a silver leopard charged forward, only to be swatted away by the 'Dementor.' Peeves, now free, quickly dove into the wall and disappeared, shouting exaggeratedly as he went, "New ghosts are fighting the students! New ghosts are fighting the students!"
Professor Mcgonagall hurried over, her pointed hat askew, and shouted angrily, "Peeves, what are you up to now?" But the scene before her eyes was different from what she had expected. She blinked, looking around.
"Minerva, it's me", the ghost spoke, a gentle voice. The sight of a Dementor speaking terrified the nearby students, who huddled together in fear.
Professor Mcgonagall recognized the voice and, suppressing her anger, hissed at the ghost, "Felix Hepworth, scaring students by pretending to be a ghost is outrageous, I tell you—"
"Um, this was an accident, sorry, Minerva. They mistook me for a Dementor..."
Felix, embarrassed, hadn't expected anyone to mistake him for a Dementor, let alone for Harry to immediately attack him with a Patronus.
What was he thinking?
Professor Mcgonagall pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring, breathing heavily—a sign of an impending explosion. This usually meant a scolding and points deduction, at least twenty points, and detention, but since Felix was a professor, the latter part wouldn't apply.
"I'll leave now", the ghost said hurriedly, not wanting to provoke the enraged lion. In this state, Mcgonagall would reprimand even Dumbledore. With a "whoosh", he vanished.
Professor Mcgonagall's chest rose and fell, and she glanced at the hourglass recording house points in the entrance hall. After a moment, she sternly addressed the drenched students, "What are you waiting for? Get into the Great Hall, quickly!"
She led the way into the Great Hall, followed by the dejected students, whose footsteps echoed with the sound of water, leaving wet footprints behind.
"If I were you, I'd try to dry yourselves off with a spell."
Professor Mcgonagall paused, her head aching as she thought about the upcoming tournament. It was hard to imagine any of these students representing Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament, bringing glory to the school in just over a month.
(End of Chapter)
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