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Chapter 552: The First Battle
Chapter 552: The First Battle
As the feast was drawing to a close, the students, having eaten their fill, began to chatter noisily in the Great Hall.
More and more people realized that Headmaster Dumbledore was not present tonight. They glanced towards the staff table, whispering and speculating, and a sense of unease started to spread through the air.
Felix silently observed the scene, and Professor Flitwick's sharp voice reached his ears from two seats away.
"Minerva, is Headmaster Dumbledore detained by something?"
"I'm not sure", Professor Mcgonagall tightened her lips, her hands twisting together in distress. She looked at the students pointing and whispering in the Great Hall and suddenly stood up.
"Students—"
Her voice carried far and wide, and the Great Hall gradually quieted down. Professor Mcgonagall cleared her throat, about to speak, when suddenly a commotion erupted near the entrance of the Great Hall.
Professor Mcgonagall felt a wave of relief as Dumbledore appeared.
He stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, the dimly lit entrance hall behind him, but his silvery white hair and beard gleamed under the light of the pumpkin lanterns.
The uneasy atmosphere in the air dissipated instantly.
Dumbledore smiled and strode through the gaps between the House tables, and the people began to chat excitedly again, but this time the atmosphere was light and cheerful. Dumbledore stood at his star-shaped chair, and Harry noticed that he was wearing white gloves again, and the black gemstone ring was nowhere to be seen.
"His beard has returned to its usual color", Hermione whispered.
Harry was too focused on Dumbledore's conspicuous purple-red robes and white gloves, wondering if the hands inside the gloves were unharmed, to notice the beard. "What do you mean?" he asked absentmindedly.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's beard looked different during the battle", Hermione whispered, craning her neck to observe. "But it's back to normal now."
"Really?" Ron poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, patting his full belly contentedly.
"I saw it too", Neville whispered. "During the battle, Headmaster's beard turned a darker shade, a kind of steel gray, kind of like... like..."
"The owner of the Hog's Head!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned their gazes from the staff table to Neville, who nodded solemnly.
"It might be some kind of secret magic", Ron said uneasily.
"I hope so", Hermione said, "but I haven't read about it in any book... unless Headmaster used advanced human transfiguration."
"That must be it", Ron concluded.
"But why would Headmaster Dumbledore do that?" Harry asked, puzzled. One of the important lessons he had learned from the Dueling Club was not to make unnecessary movements during a fight. He glanced back at the staff table.
Dumbledore did not sit down immediately. He stood in front of his chair, looking at the students in the Great Hall, and the noise died down again as people looked at him expectantly.
"Ah, forgive me, recently there have been too many mentions of my name in the newspapers, and I've been cutting out all the articles that mention me", Dumbledore blinked. "Owls from all over the world have filled my office, these little creatures always have a fondness for moving objects, so I had to put away the silverware on my desk... After finishing all this, I suddenly realized the feast had already started."
"I hope you can understand that for an old man, time is both the most precious and the most easily overlooked. I realized this especially when playing ten-pin bowling..."
He sat down, not eating anything, but smiled and surveyed the Great Hall. After about ten minutes, when the last round of desserts disappeared from the tables, the feast ended.
The students rose slowly, moving lazily towards the door like a group of sloths on a collective hunt. The professors also stood up. "Severus", Dumbledore said politely, "could you stay behind? I need to speak with you."
The two left together.
Once the others had mostly gone, Hagrid also retrieved his wooden box from under the table, said a quick hello to Felix and Sirius, and quickly slipped away.
"Everyone seems strange", Sirius grumbled.
"Are you okay?" Felix asked.
"I'm fine", Sirius mumbled, "It's just a detention... I don't care, I'm used to it."
A vague, distant voice drifted from behind them.
"I couldn't stand that, being put on probation—too humiliating."
Sirius glared at Trelawney. "Excuse me? I don't think I've met you. Are you a professor here?"
Trelawney seemed deeply offended, sharply pulling her shawl around her and stomping away.
"She's Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor. You've seen her several times..." Felix's tone was inscrutable. In fact, he had mixed feelings about this professor—both of the prophecies he knew of had been made by Trelawney.
“I know,” Sirius said without hesitation. “I even helped Harry with his Divination class homework. You know, giving some ideas and such. Kids these days lack imagination a bit...”
Gryffindor common room.
Harry slumped in a soft armchair, feeling drowsy. He glanced at the old grandfather clock by the entrance to the common room; it wasn’t even nine o'clock yet. It was still early for bed, but he didn’t feel like doing anything. Harry gazed at the ceiling, and his hand fumbled through the gap in the chair, pulling out a rolled-up newspaper.
He unfolded it and saw a photo of Dumbledore bending down to grab his shoulder. He stared at the image of himself lying on the ground, writhing like a snake, and instinctively touched his scar.
Ron plopped down beside him, making the armchair tremble. He leaned over to take a look. “Mate, you were pretty scary back then.”
Harry didn’t respond. He flipped to the next page, which featured an article titled “Revisiting Felix Hepworth.” He flipped another page to “The Only Person He Feared: The Greatest White Wizard, Dumbledore.” On the fourth page was “Dark Mark Reappears Over Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”
He sat up and read the article carefully.
“After the intense duel, many delayed reports finally reached the country. For instance, the wand that shone so brightly has been confirmed to be Salazar Slytherin’s wand, the Snakewood wand. It’s hard to imagine that this wand had lain dormant for over three hundred years at Ilvermorny School.
It is believed that a descendant of Slytherin brought the wand to America and, guided by some mysterious force, founded Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It can be concluded that the Dark Lord had coveted this wand for a long time. After obtaining it, he killed the Ilvermorny Headmaster, Aurelius Fontana, who had come to stop him. Fontana was a descendant of the Twelve American Aurors and was well-regarded during his tenure. Last year, he led the Ilvermorny delegation to the first Triwizard Tournament.
The American magical community was outraged and strongly demanded the arrest of the murderer of Headmaster Fontana.
...
Currently, Ilvermorny has not yet selected a new Headmaster. The only witness to Headmaster Fontana’s death during the incident was a young Muggle Studies professor, Uriel Edmund. He was fortunate enough to escape unharmed.
During questioning, Edmund stated, ‘The battle ended too quickly. Despite Headmaster Fontana’s fierce resistance, the opponent’s spells were evil and bizarre, and all defenses crumbled in an instant...’
As of today, the American Ministry of Magic has not issued any public statement. Rumors suggest that they had dispatched Aurors to intercept the Dark Lord, but the mission ended in heavy losses. Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Bones have called on all wizards to unite and fight against the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.
This information has not been confirmed.”
Harry put down the newspaper, feeling a heavy weight in his heart.
Ron said optimistically, “Don’t worry, Hogwarts is probably the safest place in the world. The Dark Lord wouldn’t dare come here.”
“You’re right,” Harry said, feeling a bit better.
Ron glanced at Hermione, who was scribbling at the table, and whispered, “There’s nothing we can do at school. Instead of worrying about this, we should focus on the immediate trouble.”
“What trouble?”
“The Quidditch match is coming up. I asked Angelina, and the first match is this weekend against Slytherin. Professor Mcgonagall has waived our homework for the week, and Snape has booked all the available practice fields for the next month. Harry, everyone wants to win!”
...
On the first weekend of November, Valen went out cheerfully, wearing a small scarf and swaggering along.
The courtyard was covered in a thin layer of snow, but this didn’t bother Valen. It left a trail of small footprints as it searched for targets.
“Wow! Look, it’s the little tycoon.”
A group of students gathered around.
Valen nodded confidently and pushed away a finger trying to scratch its chin. It jumped onto a bench, and the young wizards began to show off their treasures.
“I found a shiny pebble by the Black Lake!” a boy said proudly.
Valen shook its head, and the others chimed in.
“Valen already has lots of glowing stones. Look at mine!” a young witch said mysteriously, pulling out a small hat with sparkling patches. Valen’s eyes lit up.
“Chirp!”
It rummaged through its pockets and picked out a few items: a flying paper crane, some ghost food, a small bottle of super bubble solution, and a Quill floating in the air. The young witch looked hesitant.
“It’s the super bubble solution, pick that!” other young wizards advised.
“What’s special about this Quill?” the young witch asked curiously.
Valen took the Quill and wrote a wobbly word in the air, “This.” The crowd gasped again, “A Niffler that can write!” Valen waved its hands proudly but, thinking of the Dark Lord, nervously erased the words from the air.
“I’ll take this,” Mafalda said, her eyes sparkling.
The first transaction went smoothly, and Valen put on a light yellow cap and wrapped a scarf around his neck, feeling very pleased.
"Hey, Valen, do you want to take a photo?" Colin Creevey, who was passing by, asked.
Valen nodded enthusiastically.
Colin pulled out a camera from his robes as if by magic, opened the camera cover, and Valen called out. "What's wrong?" Colin stopped to ask. Valen reached into a small pocket, pulled out a small wooden stick, and struck a cool pose.
Then, he nodded at Colin, indicating that he was ready. Colin took a photo of him.
"I'll give you the developed photo in a couple of days", he said, waving as he walked away. "I'm going to the Quidditch pitch to watch the match. I can't miss it after a whole year."
Valen's eyes lit up. He quickly completed the remaining transactions, even trading a glowing pebble with a boy for a card that emitted twelve different laughs, and left feeling very satisfied.
Valen returned to the castle, walked through the entrance hall, and stood on the stone steps in front of the castle. He shaded his eyes and looked out at the distant Quidditch pitch, starting to worry. The path was too long.
He wanted to go to the Quidditch pitch to watch the match, but walking there would be too tiring. Valen stood at the edge of the steps, looking around, when he heard a voice, "…Astoria, can you try to be a bit more considerate…"
"What did I do wrong?" an indignant voice replied.
"Even though Professor Binns is a ghost, he is still a professor at the school. You can't use ghost food to prank him in class…"
Astoria was about to argue when she saw a Niffler suddenly dash in front of her, arms outstretched to block her path.
"It's you, little guy?"
Astoria happily jumped in front of it, reaching out to pet the Niffler's head. Valen nimbly jumped away, angrily pulling out the small wooden stick and pointing it at her.
"Oh, where did you get that wand?" Astoria said in surprise.
Daphne also took a serious look. "It's different from the one shown in the newspaper, not Professor Haep's wand. It can't belong to a student, can it?"
Valen shook his head repeatedly, rummaged through his pocket, and pulled out a quill to write a wobbly word in the air, "Mine." He patted his chest.
Astoria scoffed, "Yours, can you even use it?"
Valen was so excited that he almost jumped. He had been waiting for this. He beckoned to Astoria and struck a provocative pose.
Astoria's expression froze.
"Does it want to duel me?" she looked at her sister Daphne in confusion, who shrugged.
Astoria turned around and saw Valen nodding repeatedly, gesturing with his eyes, "Yes, that's exactly what I think." She was stunned for a few seconds, then burst out laughing, winking at her sister Daphne.
"Daphne, look, ha ha, this is so funny…"
Two seconds later, Astoria solemnly drew her wand. "Since you asked, I can't refuse… but let me tell you, I won the Duelling Championship in my first year, the only one ever."
Daphne covered her face, not wanting to watch her childish sister. "Are you serious?"
"Oh, I'll go easy on you", Astoria waved her hand and then looked at Valen with a condescending gaze. "Don't say I'm bullying you, you go first."
Valen crossed his little hands and spun around twice, then raised the small wooden stick.
A sudden whirlwind appeared, lifting Astoria into the air. She was swirled ten feet high, spinning helplessly. Astoria reached out in vain, feeling helpless and a bit confused. People passing by pointed at her and giggled, almost making her nose turn red with anger.
To make matters worse, Valen and Daphne stood together, watching her with interest. Daphne was laughing uncontrollably.
After nearly a minute of spinning in the air, the whirlwind gradually subsided, and Astoria landed on the ground, dizzy and disoriented, unable to stand steadily. "Valen!" she shouted in anger, lunging at Valen with her arms outstretched. But after a few wobbly steps, she stumbled into Daphne.
Astoria lifted her head from her sister's embrace, seeing Valen's bright black eyes staring at her intently. His small yellow cap and glowing patches shimmered in the sunlight.
Ten minutes later, Valen was sitting on Daphne's shoulder, following them to the Quidditch pitch.
Astoria pouted all the way.
"Valen, how did you suddenly learn magic?" Daphne asked curiously.
"Chirp!"
"Did Professor Haep help you?"
Niffler-style head shake.
"Strange… I noticed a few small gems embedded in your wand. What's the secret?" Daphne saw a hint of something.
Valen's body trembled, and he quickly hid his treasure in his pocket, indicating that there was no such thing.
The Quidditch pitch was crowded with people. Due to no matches last year, the interest and enthusiasm for the first match of the new school year were even higher. Practically everyone who could come did, and the students braved the cold, chattering excitedly.
Valen waved goodbye to the Greengrass sisters. He had smelled the Dark Lord's scent.
He jumped off Daphne's shoulder, rummaged through his pocket, and handed them two small bottles. Yes, consider it as travel money.
"Ghost food? I get a share too?" Astoria asked in surprise.
Valen nodded happily. After all, you were the first person I defeated, and you were even the 'Duelling Champion.' This is the first step of the great Niffler magician Valen stepping onto the stage of history. He had already thought about writing an autobiography, and he would certainly describe this first battle in great detail…
Once Valen disappeared, Daphne sternly held out her hand. "Confiscated!" Astoria, seeing the situation, slipped away into the crowd.
(End of Chapter)
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