Translated Chapter

219. Professor and Student [Two-in-One]

The first month of term saw Magical Pets quickly rise to become the newest sensation at Hogwarts—surpassing even Quidditch and the Maze Games, which had already been languishing due to the uncooperative weather.

The incident involving Peter Pettigrew disguising himself as a rat had prompted many students to send their pets back home for safety. While this brought peace of mind, it also left a void of companionship. Magical Pets swiftly filled that emotional gap. For some children, these tiny creatures became closer confidants than family or classmates.

Now, students could be seen walking the corridors with their refined, adorable pets—most small enough to fit in a pocket or backpack. They were intelligent, well-behaved during class, and even offered subtle help: passing a feather quill during assignments, nudging a student awake in the morning, or simply sitting quietly by their side when things felt heavy.

It wasn’t much, really. But watching a tiny creature struggle under the weight of a feather quill far too long for its frame, or waking up to the gentle nudge of a small creature insisting it was time to rise—these moments sparked waves of warmth and joy.

And when sadness struck, or a friendship faltered, the pets offered quiet comfort. Students refused to buy pets with bad temperaments—or worse, ones that liked to scold. Magical Pets never judged. They stood unconditionally by their master’s side, laughing and crying with them, even fighting other pets on their behalf.

So masters, like proud parents, couldn’t help but show off their pets. Some even let disagreements over pets fracture friendships.

As Machionni had predicted, students—yes, even adult wizards—were utterly obsessed with giving their pets cozy homes, furniture, and clothing. Some went so far as to change their pets’ outfits daily.

Since Magical Pets never violated school rules, there was no ban on bringing them into classrooms or dormitories. Only Professor Snape enforced a strict rule: no sentient, moving object—except humans—was allowed in his classroom. Everyone else was surprisingly lenient, and many professors were pet enthusiasts themselves.

Take Gilderoy Lockhart, for example.

He spent an entire class demonstrating his newest treasure: a pink bottlenose dolphin named Victoria.

The dolphin had been a Christmas gift from a devoted foreign fan—Victoria, a woman who had spent a fortune commissioning a custom piece from Aslan Magical Workshop. The dolphin was flawless: a soft, translucent pink body, large, expressive eyes, and an endless stream of adoration for Lockhart. Every word it uttered was a carefully crafted compliment, each one a tribute from a fan’s overflowing heart.

Lockhart was smug beyond measure. From then on, he brought Victoria to every class. During break, she would sing a song composed by a woman named Grady—soulful, poetic, and utterly devoted.

He even assigned an essay: students were to listen carefully to Victoria’s praises, then write a thirteen-inch paper analyzing why Professor Lockhart was such a great man.

Students scraped the bottom of their brains to fill the page, producing essays that were empty but dutiful. Lockhart, however, was delighted. He read aloud his favorite, awarding Hermione an extra twenty points with a flourish.

Lockhart’s teaching career was blissful—except for one persistent annoyance.

Every day, he planned to photograph himself with Wade Gray, the inventor of Magical Pets. He already had the scene written in his next book:

> The young Wade Gray, eyes wide with innocence, looked up at the wise and kind Professor Lockhart, grateful for the support he’d given in times of hardship. “There’s no doubt Magical Pets wouldn’t exist without your help, Professor,” Wade said sincerely. “Your talent and creativity are truly astonishing. I can’t help but wonder—you could’ve been a great alchemist. It’s a shame you chose writing instead.”

> And I smiled gently. “No need to feel regret, dear Wade. I admire those who push society forward—true alchemists. But children also need inspiration from stories. I know my books will guide them toward becoming better versions of themselves.”

> Tears welled in Wade’s eyes. He whispered, “Professor Lockhart… you’re the best professor I’ve ever had.”

Lockhart reread the passage, nodded in satisfaction, then waved his wand to speed up the drying ink.

All that remained was a photo—proof to accompany the tale.

He didn’t worry. He knew Wade Gray admired him. The boy had aced his questionnaire—though still not as perfectly as Hermione Granger. And other professors had said he was a diligent, respectful student, deeply passionate about learning.

For a Bookworm like that, praise from a professor was everything. A little embellishment wouldn’t feel like a lie—it would feel like validation.

But Lockhart rarely saw Wade in person.

He’d planned to have Wade perform a dramatic demonstration of his talents in class—but something always pulled his attention away. Only after class did he remember.

By then, the elusive student had vanished.

“What a solitary, shy child,” Lockhart mused. “But he won’t know how much I appreciate him. A little fame and a Merlin Medal shouldn’t stand in the way of teacher-student connection.”

At breakfast, he shared his thoughts with Professor Flitwick.

“Of course, I have no criticism of your teaching methods, dear Professor Flitwick,” Lockhart said warmly. “But I believe we should guide students to be more proactive—encourage them to express themselves, to build meaningful friendships. Not just fill their heads with knowledge.”

Flitwick’s whiskers trembled with fury. “Thank you, Professor Lockhart. I believe I know how to teach my students.”

“Of course you do! You’re so experienced!” Lockhart chuckled, patting the tiny professor’s shoulder. “But I do suggest you read my book—Weekends with a Werewolf. I outline seven proven techniques to improve social skills, plus instant conversation tricks. It’ll be a great help.”

Flitwick turned away, seething. He’d already guessed what was happening.

He was surprised Lockhart hadn’t considered the possibility that Wade might be using Obliviation or Repulsion Charms on him.

Still, he didn’t want to expose his student. Instead, he resolved to speak with Wade privately.

How could a student use such spells on a professor? It wasn’t just a curfew violation. It was serious.

Even Lockhart…

Even Lockhart…

But after less than five minutes of thought, Flitwick changed his mind.

Wade had done the right thing.

As a professor, Flitwick was less perceptive than his student. He should be ashamed.

Quietly, he sealed off his own hearing. At last, breakfast tasted like something worth enjoying.

Lockhart wasn’t actually foolish. He’d simply projected a “bookish” image onto Wade and interpreted all behavior through that lens.

But after the same memory-erasing incident happened dozens of times—each time a student slipped away, each time a plan unraveled—Lockhart finally understood.

This student wasn’t shy or quiet.

He wasn’t lonely.

But he was a student. And Lockhart was a professor.

The gap in status meant Wade could only act in secret—avoiding attention, sidestepping requests, never daring to say no.

Look at Harry Potter. Even The Savior had to pretend to be a foolish vegetarian vampire in Lockhart’s class, chewing half a lettuce leaf like a zombie.

So Lockhart revised his plan.

He needed help.

And he had just the assistant.

Victoria, his pink dolphin, was perfectly suited.

Magic responded to the caster’s intent. So Magical Pets weren’t just different in appearance—they reflected the personality and abilities of their masters. Dogs were energetic, cats curious, elephants strong, and dolphins—excellent listeners.

“Vicky, you’ll catch him before I do. Promise me you’ll warn me, okay?” Lockhart cooed, cradling his pet.

“Of course,” Victoria replied in her soft, sweet voice, nodding her head.

Lockhart beamed.

The weather had warmed slightly—now around fifteen degrees. Snowdrifts melted, and eager wild grasses broke through the hard soil, unfurling tender green shoots.

Students were spending more time outside, especially Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, who gathered in groups on the lawn, laughing, stretching, basking in the sunlight.

“After this much time indoors, my bones are practically moldy,” Pansy complained to Daphne, as a group of girls leaned against the corridor wall, tilting their faces toward the sun.

Of course, Slytherins wouldn’t admit that openly. Instead, they casually mentioned the view of the lake bottom from their common room, the sound of waves at night, or the occasional shadow of a giant squid gliding past the window.

Wade spotted Draco Malfoy, always surrounded by older Slytherins. Crabbe tried to approach, but was ignored.

During breaks, students gathered on the lawn—cheering, shouting, energized by the buzz of excitement.

In the center: a large parchment, or a ragged net decorated with tiny charms.

The Weasley Twins had invented a new wave of games—Pet Climbing Races, Pet Maze Races, and more.

A hand-drawn maze on parchment sold for three Sickles. A climbing frame cost five—still in high demand.

They’d even started secret betting pools. They knew full well professors would never allow it. So they worked in secret, swearing magical oaths to keep it fair.

After a race, Fred dumped a small bucket of Knuts and a few Sickles into his pouch. The jingle of coins made him grin.

A Magic Puppet Nosedog peeked out, retrieved a stray Knut, and grinned back—identical to Fred’s.

It was a Christmas gift from Wade. George had the same.

Ron’s Magical Pet? A Teacup Dog. He’d been stunned when he opened the parcel—never imagining he’d receive anything.

But it was just a gesture. Every SSC Member, and the Weasley siblings who’d visited Number 12 Grimmauld Place, had received a Magical Pet. Percy had a lion. Ginny got a tiny white lamb.

“Honestly, Wade,” Fred said. “As long as you control the numbers, it’s harmless. One Knut per bet—what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Really?” Wade replied coolly. “I heard Ron’s already lost all his pocket money.”

George smirked. “Well, our youngest brother just has bad luck.”

Fred chuckled. “Better he learns now, so he doesn’t get hurt later.”

Wade sighed.

He knew exactly who was behind it.

But aside from teasing Ron, the twins were honorable. They paid up when they lost. Without that, their little business wouldn’t survive.

“Seriously, Wade,” George said, patting down the Nosedog trying to escape his pocket. “As the inventor, why have we never seen your pet?”

“I have many. I just keep them hidden.” Wade said. “Right now, the only one I’d call a pet is Eva…”

“Oh, Wade, you little rascal! I’ve finally caught you!”

A cheerful voice rang out from behind. Before Wade could turn, a firm hand seized his arm.

Lockhart beamed. “Heard you wanted my autograph photo? Take it! And I’ll even pose with you—how surprised are you?”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end