A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 473: Surging Undercurrents

“It sounds silly, I know,” sighed Hermione, “but my mum insists on at least two letters a month. It’s hard to come up with a decent excuse. It’s not like it’s for Divination class for you guys.”

“Why didn’t I know about this? You’ve never borrowed Hedwig or my pig,” Ron asked.

“Because I used the school’s owl – stop interrupting!” Hermione paused at the common room door. “You see, our combined fame doesn’t match up to even one of Harry’s fingers. It was easy to find a paper that only mentioned Harry’s name and send it home.”

Harry suddenly looked embarrassed.

Ron glared at her, somewhat disgruntled. “Thanks for the reminder, your metaphor is just great.”

“The problem is, I don’t know what to do now,” Hermione said helplessly. “Maybe apply to Professor McGonagall to cancel—”

“Don’t!” Harry interjected quickly. “You better tell them the truth. I don’t think they’d want to miss this crucial moment.”

Ron nodded in agreement. “Think about it, if next year they find out all this from someone at Flourish and Blotts, their daughter participating in a highly dangerous event… they’d chase you to the ends of the earth or at least send a howler.”

“Oh, they won’t,” Hermione said casually. “At most, they’ll threaten that they won’t pay for my teeth straightening in this lifetime.”

In the portrait by the door, Viola visiting chatted with the Fat Lady. “Do Gryffindors always talk like this?”

“I’m just a portrait,” shrugged the Fat Lady.

“Barmy Butterflies,” Hermione’s face slightly flushed, “the password is Barmy Butterflies.”

“My favorite,” the Fat Lady chuckled. As they entered the common room, Ron grumbled, “Is she talking about herself? You should really ask how she sang operas so loudly, uh, actually, don’t ask—she even included me in one.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Ron had sneaked into Classroom 7 trying to get an invitation card for the Triwizard Tournament, and the Fat Lady made it part of her new opera.

Later, Fred and George had critiqued the song, both agreeing that the Fat Lady had a habit of exaggerating facts – if it hadn’t been their brother as the main character, they’d have thought it was adventures of young Arthur.

Sitting down, Hermione flipped open her textbook, but not a word was written. Before lights out, she finally made up her mind. “You’re right, I’ll write home tomorrow.”

—

Felix flipped through the newspaper of the new day, the headline read: “Trouble Looming! Minister of Magic in Public Opinion Whirlwind.”

“Ever since current Minister Cornelius Fudge was embroiled in a bribery scandal earlier this month, he’s been in the eye of a storm. Fudge’s dealings among multiple pure-blood families have been an open secret. He’s boasted more than once about his private friendships with these ancient families, leveraging their intricate network and influence to secure his own power.

Fudge repeatedly insists he hasn’t abused his power or accepted bribes.

‘I’ve indeed received some generous donations, all put to noble causes! I can present evidence, you have no idea the effort I’ve put into the Quidditch World Cup and the Tournament!’

But when pressed about what he’d accomplished aside from contributions from former International Magical Cooperation Head Bartemius Crouch and Sports Director Ludovic Bagman, Minister Fudge remained tight-lipped.

Five months after the Dark Mark appearances, the Ministry, apart from plastering the streets of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with the wanted poster of a deceased person, has provided little convincing evidence. This raises the question: Is our Minister truly fit for his position? Does he possess half the prowess he claims?

Random interviews with individuals seem to reflect a trend.

Editor-in-chief of ‘Dissonant Voices,’ Xeno Lovegood, alleges our Minister has a secret army composed entirely of Blast-Ended Skrewts – fiery, monstrous creatures capable of annihilating anything. This army is said to be pivotal at crucial times and not beyond being employed to discreetly eliminate adversaries.

Madame Griselda Marchbanks, Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, states that Fudge was initially Dumbledore’s protege, ‘but once his power was secure, he leaned fully into pure-blood ideologies.’

Senior Elder Tiberius Ogden from Wizengamot also holds a low opinion of Cornelius Fudge. He’d rather call him ‘Lucky Fudge,’ citing how the highest contender for Minister suddenly revealed a family affiliation to Death Eaters. Combining Mr. Lovegood’s testimony, perhaps Fudge’s secret army isn’t just one.

Moreover, the suspicious imprisonment of the former International Magical Cooperation Head has raised eyebrows. He initially received a life sentence, and no one knows if this is a political strike from adversaries. Yet, recently, Wizengamot secretly re-tried Barty Crouch, reducing his sentence to three years for misuse of power and corruption.”

—

“Nonsense!” Fudge exclaimed in his office, teeth gritted as he read the names aloud: “Lovegood, Marchbanks, and Ogden, splendid…”

“Minister,” Umbridge squinted with her perpetually smug expression, “these clowns can’t shake your position. They lack evidence!” She smiled insincerely. “Instead, you can hold them accountable.”

“What can I do? Their mouths— ” Fudge hesitated.

“Picking faults is simple, especially with Marchbanks and Ogden. They’re in the Ministry, and if we just—” Umbridge suddenly stopped, her broad, toad-like face turning towards the door, speaking softly, “Yaxley? Returning from vacation, you seem a changed man; you should knock first.”

“Apologies, Minister,” Yaxley said, no hint of regret on his face, “I needed to deliver these documents, the guards’ roster for the third task, Skeletrange and Bones have signed, only you’re pending.” Walking up, he placed the file on the table, his peripheral vision gauging the silent duo.

With a slow retraction of his arm, he stood tall. “You know, I happened to overhear your conversation.”

Fudge’s eyes widened.

“I’m on your side, Minister,” Yaxley immediately reassured.

“You’re on my side?” Fudge repeated, his gaze probing, absentmindedly signing the document with a quill. “Dolores might have a point. You seem different; you never used to say such things.”

Yaxley shrugged. “Times have changed, Minister. I was neutral before, but… during those two days off, I reflected. I believe it’s time to take a stand.”

“Is this about Felix Har—”

“Not just that, Minister,” Yaxley said, “it’s not personal vendettas, it’s a clash between two different fronts—pure-blood and non-pure-blood. I sense the impending showdown; Harp plays the role of a fierce vanguard. If we do nothing, we might all vanish in a few decades.” He was exceptionally articulate today, appearing prepared. “As one of the twenty-eight pure-blood families, despite the decline of the Yaxley lineage, the essence of being pure-blood isn’t wealth; it’s the legacy of ancient magical contracts… to this day, my family receives a small dividend, not much, but it grants me access to any pure-blood family’s doors.”

“Wait! Gringotts counts, doesn’t it?” Fudge said slowly, “I’ve read some records, during our most intense conflict with the goblins, both sides suffered losses, and some families brokered peace, giving goblins special status.”

Yaxley smiled without answering.

“Who are you backed by?” Fudge asked, suddenly interested. After the recent revelations, a third of the families that were close to him had distanced themselves, heightening his insecurity.

“That’s not important,” Yaxley said mysteriously, but now Fudge dared not underestimate him. Names of various families flashed through Fudge’s mind, especially the ones with the strongest anti-Muggle sentiments; despite their significant losses in the last war, their unity was a force to reckon with.

“Who’s your target?” Fudge inquired.

Yaxley’s expression showed surprise. “Come on,” Fudge impatiently said, “don’t claim you lack the means.” Yaxley grinned.

“Minister Fudge, have you ever played Wizard Chess?” he whispered. “The most annoying piece on the board is the pawn that reaches the opponent’s baseline; it transforms into a knight, bishop, castle, even… the boldly charging queen.”

“No!” Fudge protested. “You don’t know how aggressive he is, and Dumbledore will certainly protect him—”

“Then, use the most legitimate reason,” Yaxley interjected, looking at Fudge. “Minister, don’t forget, you represent the entire magical order of Britain. If the reason is compelling enough, even Dumbledore will be on your side.”

“A legitimate reason,” Fudge mused, passing the signed document to him.

…

“You still need a compelling reason to oust Fudge,” Felix sighed, folding the newspaper. He realized his previous efforts had, at best, irked Fudge a bit, lowering his public image while allowing ‘Future World’ to escape trouble.

But getting Fudge ousted in a short time? That’d require Voldemort hosting a party at the Ministry’s doorstep. Or him storming in.

If something like that happened, Dumbledore would be the first to oppose. It would render everything he had now futile—his professorship, Merlin’s Order, Wizengamot membership, ‘Future World’ company, and the people he knew…

“Is there any way to settle this once and for all?” Felix pondered. His and Fudge’s thoughts alarmingly aligned, both fearing the backfire.

Just then, a knock interrupted. “Come in,” Felix said. The door creaked open, revealing a furry head peeking in.

“Hey, Professor,” Hermione dashed in.

“Are you looking to borrow Mr. LeMay’s information on the Time Turner?” Intrigued by Hermione’s request, Felix asked, “Why?”

“Oh, uh—” Hermione hesitated, glancing at him.

Felix conjured some fruit preserves onto a small table from a distant cupboard, smiling warmly. “Have you formulated your reasons?”

Hermione slumped on the couch, visibly deflated.

“Well, you see, it’s the Christmas gift Valen gave me—the broken Time Turner. There might… possibly be a way to fix it, and I want to try,” Hermione confessed.

Felix looked at her, surprised. “So, have you found a substitute for temporal energy?”

“Temporal energy? What’s that?” Hermione’s eyes widened, excited to learn something new during her visits to the professor’s.

“I named it myself,” Felix said, reciting from LeMay’s notes, “‘The Time Turner harbors a unique energy, nestled in every grain of sand within the hourglass, serving as its most intricate container.’ That’s my conclusion after repeated disassemblies and attempts at repair. Unfortunately, I couldn’t verify it. Perhaps the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries might hold the answer…”

“Wait! The Department of Mysteries?” Hermione exclaimed. “I’ve heard of it, Mr. Weasley mentioned it at the Quidditch World Cup camp, talking about the Silent Workers.”

Felix nodded approvingly.

“So, the temporal energy is within the Department of Mysteries?” Hermione inquired.

“I’m not certain, Miss Granger,” Felix replied. “The Department of Mysteries is the most enigmatic within the Ministry, where Mr. LeMay spent a considerable, perhaps a lifetime, trying to unveil time’s secrets. But he lacked the crucial element—time itself.”

Hermione felt an ominous air surrounding her. Her voice unconsciously softened, “I’ve attempted time travel many times, in my third year.”

“The maximum safe backward journey for a traveler and time itself is five hours, using a spell called ‘Hour Reversal,'” Felix shared LeMay’s information. “However, both he and I doubted this claim heavily, as it suggests stable technology to create Time Turners. But evidence shows Time Turners are becoming increasingly scarce…”

“Why still issue them to students?” Hermione interjected.

“For negligible purposes, and to collect minimal data on student use,” Felix said. He got up, entering the adjoining room and returning after a while, holding a magical scroll. “These are cases Nick collected, where meddlers faced consequences. Once the protective energy depletes, the outcomes turn grim.”

“Ellyse Mintab traveled five centuries back using a Time Turner from her era, but errors occurred. Only when the device ran out of energy did she return. Severely injured, she soon passed away. It wasn’t the Ministry’s first experiment, but it was the last. After that, such trials ceased,” Felix explained.

“She was with the Ministry?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“A Silent Worker, I presume,” Felix said. “Aside from personal effects, the time distortion spread externally, drastically altering life trajectories and rendering some nonexistent. Moreover, in the days following her return, time itself became erratic: the first Tuesday lasted two and a half days, while Thursday spanned only four hours… The Ministry had to fabricate a historical asteroid to cover up, at great cost.”

Hermione’s expression was of utter shock. “I read about a rare celestial event in the late 19th century, causing prolonged daylight followed by heavy rain, inducing temporal disorientation and equipment malfunctions…”

“Fortunately, technology wasn’t advanced then, and it rained incessantly…” Felix shrugged. “I suspect even that downpour was engineered by the Ministry.”

Hermione felt her understanding shaken.

“So, why do you think you can fix the Time Turner?” Felix asked.

“Harry has a hourglass from Valen, traded from the vile Horcrux altar…”

“Valen?”

At that moment, Valen emerged from the bedroom, lifting its head inquisitively upon being called. “Squeak?”

Regarding the time-turner and time magic: Stories involving time often end up with a bunch of bugs; Rowling herself toned it down while writing.

This book briefly expands on prophecy and an important plot point. There won’t be any altering of history, and restrictions will be exceptionally stringent.

Felix himself won’t engage in time travel; consider it a special prop for this storyline.

>

You can access more chapters from HERE by joining my Patreon community. You’ll gain exclusive early access to the COMPLETE NOVEL.

As a member of my Patreon community, here is what you’ll get:

• Early access to the COMPLETE NOVEL.
• You also get access to all the novels I’m translating, you can find them here HERE.
• You Get Ad-free Chapters.
• Plus, you can Cancel your membership at any time.