Chapter 655: The Important Niffler
Chapter 655: The Important Niffler
"That's not mine; I just borrowed it temporarily." Harry hesitated. "I returned it to Headmaster Dumbledore last night."
"Returned it to Dumbledore—" Grindelwald stared at Harry blankly. "You mean it originally belonged to him?"
"Yes, Professor." Harry steeled himself.
"Why did Dumbledore lend it to you?"
"I guess because, well, because there was something wrong with my body, and the ring could help. But I don't need it anymore." Harry spoke vaguely, wondering if Professor Bashir had guessed something. He had brought up the topic, so perhaps he recognized the Resurrection Stone? But how could that be possible... While Harry's mind raced, Grindelwald gently moved past the subject.
"Right, you haven't been to class for a while." Grindelwald gazed into the fireplace, lost in thought for a long moment. "So... it was because of this."
Harry suddenly felt a sense of disorientation.
Professor Bashir might have known all along that the gemstone set in the ring was one of the Deathly Hallows, the Resurrection Stone. Perhaps he recognized it when Harry wore it to the Great Hall after leaving the hospital, as he seemed more concerned about the ring's origin than the ring itself.
"You're right, Harry. I have a good idea what it is." Grindelwald regained his composure and said calmly, "Decades ago, Grindelwald sent people to investigate the whereabouts of that object. I was one of the informants. I was worried that you might have obtained it by chance or been manipulated by someone... but since it was Dumbledore..."
He didn't continue, seemingly satisfied that the Resurrection Stone was safe in Dumbledore's hands. He raised his voice slightly.
"Well, let's move past this interesting interlude. Harry, have a cookie—" Harry picked up a cookie. "I heard your Patronus is quite unique, not only powerful but capable of physical attacks?"
"Yes, Professor." Harry said with a hint of excitement, trying not to think about the magic book he had written halfway through but had since stalled.
"Then you must realize the importance of firm belief for a wizard."
"Belief—what do you mean?" Harry looked at him in confusion.
"Belief, Harry." Grindelwald repeated slowly, "When a wizard reaches a certain level, they often shift from specific spells to broader concepts, but that's just the surface. They are actually interpreting the essence of magic in their own way."
"Interpreting the essence of magic." Harry pondered.
"Exactly. Our innate magic. So if you want to achieve something, you should focus on conditions that relate to it—like the amount of magic, control, transformation methods, and the integration of belief. These are the things you should pursue throughout your life."
Grindelwald spoke softly.
Harry let out a soft, enlightened breath, feeling that many of his previous uncertainties were now clear.
...
"It's love. It holds the secrets of all magic."
In the Headmaster's office, Snape closed his eyes, seemingly bored with the familiar rhetoric. "I've heard enough, Dumbledore. I want to know why, after eight months of neglect, you called me to your office again... What for?"
Dumbledore shook his head slightly.
"I heard your complaints, Severus. You know I can't allow you into Classroom Seven."
"Of course, you're afraid I might kill him on impulse." Snape's voice was cold. "He's still useful—so you tell me, but I see no progress."
"About Harry—"
"He's still a Horcrux. I went to the Hospital Wing... when he was unconscious." Snape's voice grew agitated. "Didn't you say you were working on it? What have you done?"
"Actually", Dumbledore said calmly, "I have a strong sense of confidence. The question is... when, and what preparations are needed." He looked down at his hands.
"Strong confidence?"
"Yes."
Snape seemed thoroughly confused, giving Dumbledore a cold glance as he paced around the office.
"Preparations? What preparations?" After a moment, Snape asked. "And", he stared at Dumbledore's white wand with evident disgust, "why haven't you destroyed it?"
"I fear it might still be useful, Severus."
Snape's expression turned visibly wary.
"Who do you plan to give it to? It belongs to the Dark Lord and is unsuitable for anyone else!"
"That isn't a concern for me, Severus. What truly troubles me is another wand. I'm still undecided... perhaps it's too early to consider it. I'm still reasonably strong." Dumbledore said, glancing at Snape as if to say: Yes, I'm using you as a benchmark.
Snape's face darkened, and he felt like cursing.
"What has Felix been up to lately?" Dumbledore changed the subject.
"He borrowed the research materials for the Wolfsbane Potion a while ago." Snape replied. "It seems he's preparing to tackle a problem that has plagued the entire magical community."
"An insatiable curiosity for research", Dumbledore praised, "What about Valen?"
"The Niffler?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is the answer important to you?"
Dumbledore gave him a cheerful wink.
"It's fine, well-cared for", Snape said dryly. Seeing Dumbledore's satisfied expression, he opened his mouth. "Dumbledore, I don't understand why you care—"
"Oh, Severus, it's a feeling that's hard to describe. I suggest you try having a pet yourself. I recommend a parrot; you can teach it to speak."
Snape turned his head with a blank expression, following Dumbledore's amused gaze to Fawkes, who was pecking at fish bones with a "clack clack" sound. He said oddly, "I don't know if it's the same, but when I was handling the Billywigs, I did try naming them after you. I must say, it gave me an indescribable sense of satisfaction..."
...
A new week began.
"Rule twelve: under certain conditions, the same type of Ancient Magic can merge. The power remains the same, but the range of effect increases", Felix smiled. "Your task in class is to verify this theory and document your observations."
The students moved, forming groups of two or three.
"What kind of Ancient Magic?" Ron asked.
"Anything", Harry yawned. "We can only use teaching magic in class anyway."
Teaching magic, another new term invented by Professor Hep. Many students still remembered when the professor explained it to them: "Real Ancient Magic, especially offensive spells, are too dangerous to be taught in class unless absolutely necessary. I will teach you supportive and defensive spells... like the Luminos and flying spells you've learned before. Additionally, I've developed a series of Runic Script magic specifically for daily teaching and practice."
"To put it simply, it involves cleverly converting modern spells into Ancient Runes. This will help you better understand the second rule: the casting principles of all magic, including Ancient Magic, are fundamentally consistent."
Harry and Ron chose the Snow Creation Spell. Soon, they had a cloud of snow in their hands, carefully bringing them closer. "Wait, I see the Runic Script sequence. I don't think it will work", Harry said.
"Alright." Ron thought for a moment, squinting and concentrating. After a few seconds, the snow cloud in his hand stopped looking like a glowing cotton candy.
They tried again, and this time the snow clouds merged without any hindrance. They looked up to see a large cloud of snow floating on the ceiling, sprinkling down a thick layer of white snow.
More students joined in, the snow cloud expanding, and the snow on the ground piled up thickly. However, they soon faced an opponent. On the other side, Seamus and Dean used Runic Script to create a water dragon about six to seven feet long, and a few eager students were ready to join in.
By the end of the class, the students were covered in frost on their heads, eyebrows, and clothes, as if they had been outside in the winter cold all day.
Shivering, they hurried to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Professor Bashir led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and stopped. "I originally planned to take you deeper into the Forbidden Forest, but the request was denied", he said regretfully. "Your task is to use any materials you can find nearby to build a temporary shelter and find food."
"Professor Bashir, is this also a skill for hiding among Muggles?"
"Very well summarized."
"But why can't we just go to a Muggle store and buy some food?" Ron grumbled to Harry. Unfortunately, his voice was too loud, and the professor heard him. "Because you'd jump with excitement at the sight of Muggle money and point at their music players, saying, 'Hey, we have those too—Mr. Weasley?'"
Ron fell silent, and the other students who had objections quickly calmed down.
In previous classes, Professor Bashir had adopted a teaching method similar to Lockhart's dramatic performances, but the students were divided into two groups—one playing wary Muggles, the other playing Wizards disguised as Muggles, then engaging in dialogue.
Of course, the students playing Muggles were given some 'prompts'—a small piece of parchment. As Hermione put it, they were exam questions, but Harry thought they were more like short scripts, filled with tricky language traps that many students fell into.
For example, Seamus, while discussing his favorite football player, talked about Quidditch moves, leaving the other person speechless with his eloquence.
"... flies fast and well, diving from fifty feet!"
His homework that day was two inches longer than everyone else's.
Professor Bashir made Seamus use the extra space to describe how the football player flies.
"Can those people use magic?" he asked politely.
As expected, the camping turned into a mess. Harry and Ron dug a large hole in the ground as a pitfall trap, covering it with branches and leaves, then hid inside to chat. When Neville stepped out to pick wild berries, he fell into the hole, landing on Harry and Ron. In the excitement, Harry bumped his head and got a big bump.
After Neville left with a lingering fear, they learned their lesson and cast defensive and silencing spells nearby, planning to wait until the class ended. However, they only lasted half an hour before they got bored. The air was filled with a strange, alluring aroma, and they emerged to find that the other students were clearly more interested in food, bustling about with great enthusiasm.
Draco Malfoy walked around with a look of disgust, holding a skewer of burnt mushrooms. Daphne Greengrass shrewdly traded a bouquet of wildflowers for two muddy potatoes from others. Justin had dug up a nest of beetles, and a few Ravenclaw girls were gathering wild celery and mushrooms, with considerable success. As Harry and Ron passed by Ernie Macmillan, they saw him discreetly using a transfiguration spell to turn a stone on the ground into a rabbit.
"Brilliant. I’ve got a great idea", Ron exclaimed, then slinked away furtively.
"Ron—"
Harry called out, but Ron was already gone. Worried about drawing attention, he gave up and wandered around for a couple of laps, finding no sign of the professor. He then found Hermione, who was irritably dealing with her mushroom soup.
Harry quickly glanced at the contents of the pot and immediately lost his appetite.
"How do you think it is?" she asked with hopeful anticipation.
"Um—pretty good", Harry stammered.
Hermione sighed, about to say something, when someone shouted from a distance, "I found a stream nearby, and there are fish in it!" A large portion of the students abandoned their tasks and ran over.
Harry tried not to look at the grayish-brown mushroom soup in front of him and suggested to Hermione that they go see. Hermione glanced sadly at her creation, then agreed without further resistance.
As Harry and Hermione took a few steps, they heard someone calling their names from behind. It was Ron, who was running toward them with a huge pumpkin, out of breath. "It was bad. Fang saw me leaving, and I heard Hagrid and Professor Bashir talking."
"Did they see your face?" Harry asked anxiously. Ron thought for a moment but couldn’t remember clearly.
At noon, the students devoured their food with much better appetites than usual.
"Hey, Harry!" Just as Harry and Ron were fighting over a portion of mashed potatoes, Luna walked by cheerfully. Her gaze lingered on Harry’s hand for a few seconds, and she asked curiously, "Where’s your pretty ring?"
"Ring?" Harry choked. He was surprised to see Luna smiling with her eyes, pointing to her left hand, which was now empty.
"Pretty?" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione didn’t speak, but her expression conveyed her thoughts.
Harry’s heart sank. This was the second person to notice he wasn’t wearing the ring. Given his past experiences, he was sensitive to such questions. Honestly, he thought that even with the fame of the Resurrection Stone, the ring was far from pretty.
Its craftsmanship was rough, especially considering its last two owners (excluding Voldemort) might not have treated it well.
"I saw you wearing it last Saturday", Luna said confidently, "at lunch when we went to the Great Hall. You were surrounded by a lot of people, so you might not have seen me pass by."
"That wasn’t mine. I returned it to the original owner", Harry mumbled.
"Oh", Luna said with regret and ran over to sit with Ginny.
Harry watched her go, a sudden thought popping into his head. Luna had mentioned Firenze’s words—she would narrowly miss the Resurrection Stone. Now it seemed to perfectly fit the centaur’s prediction; Luna had indeed narrowly missed him while he was wearing the ring.
But Headmaster Dumbledore had had it for a long time, hadn’t he? Harry pondered as he ate, wondering how many times Dumbledore and Luna might have narrowly missed each other before him.
However, Harry soon realized that he rarely saw Dumbledore wearing the ring in public, especially this semester. "Hiss!" he suddenly inhaled sharply.
"What’s wrong?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing", Harry quickly replied, surprised by his own thoughts: Was Dumbledore intentionally keeping it hidden from Professor Bashir? Long-forgotten information resurfaced, reminding him that these two were acquainted.
In the evening, Felix delivered food to the werewolves temporarily residing in the outskirts and arrived at the Three Broomsticks before ten o’clock. After taking a small sip, he noticed the atmosphere was off.
A tall man with a chiseled face and striking blue-green eyes sat across from him, and at the same time, several pairs of eyes, some bright and some dim, turned toward them.
"Mr. Heap, hello", the man said.
"Mr. Noire?" Felix smiled, looking around, his hand moving from the cup to tap lightly on the table. "So, you parents have gathered to persuade me to help your children transfer schools? You’ve come to the right person."
(End of Chapter)
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