https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-622-Sixth-Year-Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts-Class/13462902/
Chapter 621: Advanced Ancient Runes
Chapter 621: Advanced Ancient Runes
Gryffindor Common Room.
“What did you say? In the school! Are they mad?” Ron shouted, his face a picture of disbelief.
Hermione shot him a sharp glare. Ron lowered his voice but sounded even more urgent, hissing, “Is it true, the Dark Lord is locked in Classroom Seven? Am I dreaming?” He glanced instinctively at the common room clock, but it had gone dark, and the room was too dim for him to see clearly.
“The professors have cast many spells on him,” Harry whispered, detailing to them what he had seen of Voldemort’s condition, emphasizing the ouroboros made of multiple Patronuses. But Ron kept muttering, “Mad, they’re all mad.”
Hermione seemed a bit calmer. After a moment of shock, she tried to analyze the situation.
“I thought Voldemort was dead—”
Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise.
Hermione, impatient, said, “Oh, yes, Harry saw Voldemort captured at the end of last term, but that doesn’t mean much because at the time,” she mouthed the word ‘Horcrux,’ “one was still in Bellatrix Lestrange’s possession.”
“—If Voldemort had died then, it would have been a relief, as he could have hidden in a state of a mere soul fragment. So I can understand why Professors Hup and Dumbledore did what they did. The problem is, I thought they would destroy the Horcrux as soon as possible, but they didn’t…” She looked puzzled, gazing at Harry. “Something must have gone wrong.”
“You’re right,” Harry said. “Voldemort had one more thing keeping him alive than we thought.”
Hermione and Ron both gasped.
“Did they find the extra one? Destroy it?” Ron asked eagerly.
Harry stared at him, nodding and shaking his head in quick succession.
“Found it, but not destroyed?” Ron guessed. “But why? Is it in someone’s hands, making it hard to get? Oh, Professor Hup could steal it—”
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Oh, sorry, I thought Professor Hup wouldn’t mind—” Ron’s apology was cut short as he realized Hermione wasn’t addressing him. “My name is Ron, remember?” But Hermione was staring at Harry, her lips trembling.
Ron’s eyes widened in fear as he slowly turned to look at Harry.
“Yes, I’m the last one,” Harry said, striving to keep his voice steady.
“Shh.” He saw both their mouths open wide and raised a finger. “There’s still hope. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Hup kept Voldemort alive for this reason. Let me explain—”
He began to recount the entire story, omitting only the part about the Resurrection Stone that Dumbledore had asked him to keep secret. The story was long, starting from the final History of Magic exam. Harry quickly moved on to the scenes he had seen in Snape’s memories, and for some reason, he didn’t hold back, telling everything openly.
Ron and Hermione couldn’t help but be moved.
“Remember the boy from the apothecary shop?” Hermione asked softly, referring to the story they had obtained from Professor Hup under the guise of Miss Jane. That was the first time Harry had forced himself to confront Snape’s complex feelings for Lily Evans.
For a long while, no one spoke.
After a moment, Harry continued. He described seeing the private conversation between Snape and Dumbledore—“They knew all along?” Ron exclaimed. “No, you knew then?” He looked at Harry with a betrayed expression, and Harry grinned at him. “I thought I was going to die.”
“No wonder you suddenly wanted to write a book.” Ron realized, then cast a suspicious glance. “At the Burrow, you and Ginny barely interacted. I thought you were shy, but now…” He clenched his fists, looking furious.
Harry took a step back, shrinking away.
“If you’re planning to abandon her—”
“Never!”
Harry said in a panic. By then, Ron was already charging at him. Harry closed his eyes, bracing for a punch, but instead, he was enveloped in a tight hug. Harry almost couldn’t breathe. “Bloody hell, I’ll remember this punch. If there’s another time—” Ron threatened, shaking his fist.
Hermione covered her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, you two."
It seemed the matter was over, like a storm passing. Harry felt this was the first time in two months he had laughed so freely. He noticed the worry in Hermione's eyes and hesitated before saying, "Don't worry, Dumbledore told me something... He has a secret weapon..." Seeing Hermione about to speak, Harry shook his head. "Don't ask, I promised Dumbledore to keep it a secret."
Harry's confidence came from the legendary Resurrection Stone. He had witnessed the magical power of this artifact firsthand—Dumbledore used it to bring back his sister Ariana and introduced her to Harry. This was just a glimpse of what Dumbledore had learned from his research on the Resurrection Stone.
"By the way", Ron said, "I saw Hagrid when we left the Great Hall."
Harry's eyelids twitched. He felt the confidence in his chest quickly replaced by another emotion. His voice was dry as he asked, "What did Hagrid say?"
"Are you planning to take his class this year?" Ron countered. Harry and Hermione remained silent.
The three of them exchanged glances.
Lying in bed, Harry stared at the canopy of his four-poster bed, inwardly complaining why Ron couldn't have brought up this problem the next day.
The next morning, after breakfast, the new sixth-year students stayed behind.
The four Heads of House descended from the staff table to distribute and organize the schedules. It was a tedious task because the Heads of House had to check the students' O.W.L. results to ensure they were qualified for the classes.
"Potions—Acceptable. If I were still teaching, I would never accept this grade."
Snape's distinctive, cold voice carried over to the Gryffindor tables.
"Acceptable for Potions?" Ron asked, just realizing the Potions Professor had changed.
"Yes, Weasley. Professor Slughorn is willing to accept students who scored at least an Acceptable", Professor Mcgonagall said, placing a stack of blank schedules on the table and consulting her notes.
She called out a few names in order, distributing the schedules.
"Granger."
Hermione walked over quickly and said, "I want to continue Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions."
A hint of a smile appeared on Professor Mcgonagall's stern face.
"Of course, Hermione Granger. Professor Machi Ban even wrote a letter of commendation." She waved her wand, and golden red ink appeared on the blank schedule. Then she turned to Neville, who nervously pulled out a small piece of paper and read it aloud, "I'm taking Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes—"
Professor Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Don't be nervous, Longbottom. Your mother has already written to me. With your grades, you can also take Potions. Is that okay?" She looked at Neville, who nodded.
Professor Mcgonagall cleared her throat and looked up at the crowd. "Is anyone else taking Ancient Runes? The first class is Ancient Runes, so you need to hurry—"
A flurry of arms shot up.
"—Professor Hep only accepts students who scored an Outstanding on their O.W.L.", she added.
Several arms drooped in disappointment.
"Since that's the case", Professor Mcgonagall said, looking at the still substantial number of students, a bit frustrated, "let's form a queue in order."
Ron looked at the crowd in amazement and whispered to Harry, "Some people didn't get an Outstanding, it's incredible..."
Harry just shrugged. From his observation, everyone's Ancient Runes scores were surprisingly good, which led to a phenomenon where it seemed everyone treated the advanced class as a required course. Despite Professor Hep's warning last year that the advanced class would be challenging, few students had the courage to give up an advantage subject.
In the end, Harry and Ron chose the same subjects: Spells, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, Potions, and Ancient Runes.
"Just one less subject than Hermione", Ron said, half proud and half exasperated.
Harry wasn't surprised. He reflected on his five years at Hogwarts—his first three years had been relatively easy, with he and Ron only really studying hard during the last two months of each term. But the fourth and fifth years had been like nightmares.
In fourth year, they had practiced magic intensively for the Triwizard Tournament, but even then, they had almost been killed by Voldemort at the end of the third task.
Harry would never forget how powerless he felt when facing Voldemort—sure, he could handle it if it was just him, but he had watched helplessly as Ron and Hermione were tortured, their lives hanging by a thread, dependent on Voldemort's whims, and at any moment they could have become cold, lifeless bodies.
Because of that experience, their training had been so intense that even Sirius had been concerned. Even Ron, who Harry knew didn't care much about grades, had gritted his teeth and pushed through those two years.
The only explanation, Harry thought, was what Hermione had told him during the summer after fourth year, "I don't want to die in a war." But they also didn't want to watch their friends die in the next encounter with Voldemort.
...
When the three of them arrived at the Ancient Runes classroom, Professor Hep was already waiting, and the chairs were filled with students.
"Why so many people?" Harry said, surprised.
"The advanced class is for students from all four houses", Hermione whispered.
"Hey, look over there." Ron poked Harry's ribs, and Harry looked to the far left of the front row. A fluffy Niffler was yawning on a stack of thick books, while Daphne Greengrass sat upright on the other side, her eyes occasionally glancing left.
"Valen?" Hermione said, surprised. Valen heard her voice, looked up, and lazily waved at them.
"Merlin's beard", Ron marveled, "Professor Hep isn't content with just teaching Nifflers to read anymore."
They found a seat, and Harry couldn't help but stare at the back of Valen's head. He then looked at the professor, who was flipping through the Book of Runes at the podium, finding the whole situation rather bizarre. Were they really going to have a Niffler as a classmate?
After a while, Felix put away the Book of Runes and stood up. His gaze swept over the classroom, which was now full.
"You have completed three years of Ancient Runes and achieved excellent results."
"I hope you chose this course out of a passion for Ancient Runes, because you will find that the advanced class is vastly different from what you've experienced before... You've probably heard of wandless magic? Yes, this technique is widely used at the Wagadu School of Magic."
"Ancient Runes has similar requirements."
"Now, put away your wands. You need to learn to free yourselves from unnecessary constraints", Felix said, and the students below him fumbled to put away their wands. "Good. I need you to trace Ancient Runes in the air with your fingers. I know some of you can do it. The next step is to use your will to summon the runes, making them appear around you. The more, the better! Begin."
The importance of a wand to a wizard was undeniable. Losing their wands was a significant mental blow to the students, and most of them stared at a small patch of air in front of them, their faces turning red as they moved their fingers randomly, as if suffering from some strange disease.
"I told you."
Felix said in a low, almost amused voice, walking among the students. "There are some tricks, but you need to discover them yourselves." His tone was not entirely devoid of schadenfreude.
He walked over to Hermione, who was holding a glowing rune script in her hand. She was about to raise her hand but looked up to see the professor glaring at her.
Hermione sheepishly lowered her hand.
"How did you do it?" Harry whispered when Felix moved on. Ron and the students nearby immediately perked up to listen.
"Imagine the magical symbols of the runes in your mind", Hermione whispered.
Harry and the surrounding students were enlightened.
Professor Hep had emphasized the importance of the magical symbols of practical runes more than once, but they hadn't connected it to this lesson. Soon, this 'secret' spread quickly among the students, and Felix pretended not to hear, watching as they strained to imagine a beam of light, a ball of fire, or a stream of water...
Some students were already rolling their eyes in exasperation.
Harry hesitated for a moment between 'fire,' 'Light,' and 'Sun Wheel' runic scripts, eventually choosing 'Light'—the practical runes he had mastered the longest. Thanks to his familiarity with the Lumos spell, he was well-versed in its magical symbolism.
He visualized the sensation of using Lumos in his mind, his fingers moving unconsciously. After a few failed attempts, he successfully drew a gleaming symbol.
"Nice work, Potter", Felix suddenly appeared behind him. "You’ve already started to break free from the wand's constraints. Next, try removing physical assistance—"
Buoyed by his success, Harry felt confident, but his optimism didn’t last long. After failing over a dozen times, he grew increasingly frustrated, his breathing becoming rapid.
"Maintain patience, confidence, and a bit of technique as a supplement", Felix raised his voice to be heard over the labored breathing and grunts of the students around them. Many students turned their heads, dazed and confused.
"This isn’t difficult; anyone can do it."
He lowered his arms, and ancient runes symbols fell like raindrops.
Time ticked by, and the students gradually began to grasp the technique. First, understanding the magical symbolism of the runic script was crucial, a point supported by all successful cases; second, students who knew Lumos seemed to have an easier time.
"Think about it, ancient magic doesn’t require a wand at all; we’ve just been stuck in a rut", one student realized belatedly.
Even so, by the end of the class, only about thirty percent of the students managed to draw a faint runic symbol with their fingers, and fewer than five could make them appear on their own.
"The top ten students each get ten points. Let me see, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw get thirty points each, Slytherin and Hufflepuff get twenty points. For homework, a fifteen-inch essay—"
A wave of groans rippled through the room.
But Felix remained unmoved.
"—on the differences and similarities between wand casting, wandless magic, and gesture casting, as well as the psychological impacts. Reference books are on the board", he gestured to a list of titles that appeared on the blackboard behind him. "Of course, if you can complete the second step by next time, the homework will be waived."
The students looked as if they had just been sentenced to death and then suddenly brought back to life. Clearly, they had underestimated the difficulty.
"Before Halloween, we will start new content. Students who don’t meet the requirements will stay after class."
Felix briskly ended the first day of class for the sixth-year students, leaving with Valen, who had been bored enough to draw abstract art with his personal wand during the lesson. The two walked away, quickly debating—
"Didn't you insist on coming?"
"Chirp!"
"No, you’re just too idle. Stay away from that person; his look at you is troubling. He’s probably been burned before—"
Many students, their brains overworked, slumped listlessly in their chairs.
"My head is full of roaring fire", Seamus muttered, yawning widely. As if it were contagious, the students all began to doze off.
Hermione kept rubbing her forehead.
"What’s next class?" she asked, exhausted.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts", Neville said, walking over, seemingly unaffected.
An image of an elderly man flashed through Harry’s mind, the one who had given him an encouraging smile that morning. After lingering in the classroom for a bit, the students left in a line, heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry opened the door and then suddenly stepped back, staring at the sign on the door as if he had seen a ghost.
"What’s wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, surprised. She squeezed past him and looked into the classroom, her mouth dropping open as well. In addition to Professor Bashar, four more people were seated neatly in the last row—
Snape, Professor Mcgonagall, Professor Hep, and Headmaster Dumbledore.
In that moment, the old man standing on the podium, wrinkles etched on his face, seemed enigmatic and profound in the sunlight.
(End of Chapter)
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