A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

It seems they had a plan—mainly Minerva and Severus—hoping to correct a portion of the summer homework during lunchtime. As for Felix, he had much more free time than the other two.

However, he sat in an armchair, poring over a stack of papers.

For a while, the staff room was quiet, filled only with the sounds of paper being marked. The three professors had distinct grading methods: Professor McGonagall was meticulous, the scratching of her quill hardly ceasing, like the patter of rain on leaves; Snape, on the contrary, remained motionless for quite some time, then suddenly made forceful strokes on parchment. Just from listening for a while, Felix could roughly gauge the student's proficiency and Severus's mood...

Felix jotted down a string of page numbers at the end of the paper, indicating areas the student needed to readdress. After nearly half an hour, he stood up from his chair, straightened his back, preparing to take a breather. Snape, who hadn't spoken all this while, raised his head, fixed his gaze on Felix's figure, and followed him out of the staff room.

Felix appeared in the courtyard, rain drizzling outside, standing near a tall pillar. From the castle's heights, wide eaves stretched out, casting extensive shadows that covered a small thicket of bushes.

Felix squinted, staring into the distance at a blurry figure of a student hopping around in the rain, much like a rabbit.

Magic is truly extraordinary, and convenient at that. He couldn't remember how many times this thought had crossed his mind.

Snape appeared next to him at some point, other students also stepping out for some air. However, whenever they neared, Snape shot them fierce glares, making them retreat and enabling a smooth conversation. Both estimated the atmosphere and almost simultaneously spoke—

"I heard you got a new wand," Snape said.

Snape's face stiffened momentarily. He murmured softly, "Our headmaster indeed trusts you... Be cautious, though. That usually means he has new arrangements for you."

"Are you saying he intends to employ me again?" Felix asked, discovering something quite interesting. In different people's eyes, Dumbledore's image could be drastically different. But what about himself? How did others perceive him?

"Employ you..." Snape repeated slyly, "If you don't mind being a pawn, every move of yours controlled by someone else... then, yes."

"Terrifying. Does he have the gift of prophecy? But I recall he himself doesn't quite believe in prophecies," Felix exaggerated.

Snape gave him a sideways glance, "Our headmaster is a master strategist. He analyzes you thoroughly before the conversation even starts. Makes you think everything you do is your choice, when in fact, it's what he wants."

Felix tasted a familiar sensation; it seemed he also did the same—preparing extensively before negotiations to avoid rejection. So, this conversation sounded like Snape was accusing him.

"Just airing grievances, Severus."

"Just a passing remark," Snape said calmly, "So, your new wand is named 'Elder Wand'?" Though a bit convoluted, Felix understood.

"Yes," he replied shortly.

"It's Ollivander's creation?" Snape inquired.

"Yeah, remarkably skilled craftsmanship."

"But not everyone sees it that way," Snape whispered.

Felix's eyes darted, "Is it your part-time employer? Don't you think he's a bit overbearing—"

"Some believe," Snape raised his voice, his dark eyes piercing through the rain curtains, "this wand existed long ago, safeguarded by the Ollivander family, only recently rediscovered." �

Felix was slightly taken aback, "That's rare." Did Voldemort misunderstand something? Felix racked his brain, recalling his conversation with Mr. Ollivander; he was pretty sure his words were full of sarcasm about fairy tales.

But who knew what Voldemort thought; his mind wasn't quite right...

"In history, there are legends of powerful wands—the Elder Wand, Deathstick, Wand of Destiny... The Elder Wand's legend is the most exaggerated, its transmission the bloodiest and cruelest... Of course, few believe it. Those who know treat them as stories... But one can't conclude that these powerful wands never existed." Snape spoke in a deep voice.

"Why say the Elder Wand's transmission was bloody and cruel?" Felix asked, picking a familiar name.

Snape glanced at him.

"In rumors, only by winning the wand from the previous owner can one become its true master. This often involves plots, schemes, and bloody killings. There's much evidence to support this—"

"So, you believe in this?" Felix asked.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Snape didn't give a direct answer, continuing, "Several powerful dark wizards proved its prowess with their lives. But there's another school of thought claiming it's all baseless coincidence, scholars later extrapolating from a limited number of wand transitions, turning it into a compelling story."

"I don't have an Elder Wand in my possession," Felix chuckled.

"It doesn't matter if I believe or not. What I say doesn't count," Snape dismissed.

Felix fell silent, gaining a new understanding from Dumbledore's previous words: how to know an enemy's thoughts? Simply deduce from their actions. At least in this matter, Felix concluded: Voldemort wouldn't dare oppose him until he knew the truth about the Elder Wand.

The intimidation from a false Elder Wand was astonishing.

Even Felix felt a bit intrigued—just as Voldemort feared Felix, Felix also feared Voldemort. Two equally powerful wizards, both valuing the inadvertent revelation of each other's true thoughts, was a perfectly normal thing.

He was well aware the Elder Wand in his possession was a fake, but what if in reality, there existed a wand that could conquer all battles? And he, subconsciously, named his new wand after it. Did it foreshadow something? Like, he would eventually obtain the real Elder Wand?

But Felix quickly suppressed this thought. He wasn't too keen on believing in a wand that could conquer everything. Could a wizard be stronger than powerful magic?

Moreover, the wand was just a transitional phase for him; he didn't need to invest too much energy in something destined to be relinquished. He might as well focus on countering Voldemort's Killing Curse. Currently, he had at least three ideas—The Shrinking Charm to enlarge entities, Seventh-Level Ironclad Charm, and magical creature transformation. But applying them flexibly would take time.

Lost in thought, Felix had belittled the Shrinking Charm all along, only pondering how to shrink targets. But upon reflection, enlarging things around him could be a good strategy.

In the future, he could carry some coins, stones, or nails on him, throwing them at Voldemort... maybe even throw a rat.

...

"Who's there!" Snape suddenly shouted. He stormed towards the shadows, his robes rustling.

Felix snapped back to attention, taking a few steps to the side, now seeing clearly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood despondently together, looking sickly. Harry held a limp piece of string in his hand, one of the twins' inventions—the Extendable Ear—trembling at Snape's feet. Snape seemed thoroughly

annoyed.

"Spying on professors' conversations, minus fifty points! Each of you! Plus detention!" Snape bellowed furiously.

Felix blinked and moved a few steps away, now having a clearer view.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood dejectedly together, wearing sickly expressions. Harry clutched a limp piece of string— an invention of the Weasley twins—while the other end of the Extendable Ear shook at Snape's feet. Snape appeared thoroughly displeased.

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