A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 478: Not as Planned - (2)

The door to the Potions classroom swung open, and students poured out into the corridor.

Hermione packed her bag, anxiously muttering, “The questions weren’t too hard, but I’m not sure if I explained the steps properly. A flick of the wand before stirring the potion…” Harry and Ron looked bemused as Hermione reviewed the Potions test. Harry couldn’t resist commenting, “Hermione, among the three of us, only you actually sat for the exam. We have no idea which questions you’re even talking about.”

“Yeah,” Ron’s unusually cheerful mood surfaced. He chuckled, “I was reading a comic during the test. You should’ve seen Snape’s face—oh, sorry, Professor.” Turning to speak, he accidentally bumped into Felix.

“My fault for blocking you,” Felix smiled. “I reckon it’s about time; I need to speak with Professor Snape… Oh, Miss Granger, I’ve been pondering, and I feel a bit concerned. If you plan to fix that little timer, it’s best to let me know beforehand—”

“We’ve already fixed it,” Harry interjected.

“Um, what?”

“It’s fixed, as of last night,” Harry stated.

“Wait a moment,” Felix eyed Harry and then turned to Hermione, “I recall you mentioning you’d attempt the repair after the third task?”

“Oh, well…” Hermione flustered, running her hand through her hair. “There was a bit of a mishap… I was in a good state of mind at the time, so I… um, finished it early,” she stammered.

She really didn’t want the professor to know that her worry about meeting her parents had impulsively led her to advance her plans.

“Professor, do you need me to fetch the Time-Turner for you? I have it in my dormitory,” Hermione redirected, causing Harry and Ron’s anxiety to rise. Even though they had decided to have Professor Snape check it, they still feared hearing words like “danger” or “confiscated” from the professor’s mouth.

“Not necessary for now. Focus on preparing for the third task; I do hope you’ll hoist that trophy,” Felix casually postponed her suggestion.

Watching Felix disappear around the corner, Hermione, puzzled, asked, “Did either of you notice anything odd about the professor?”

“Did we?” Ron asked, while Harry, equally puzzled, looked at her.

“It’s just—” Hermione struggled to describe the feeling of unease, “Never mind. We only have the History of Magic exam left tomorrow. Are you still planning to read idle books during class?”

“I checked with Professor McGonagall; parents will be visiting tomorrow morning. Hermione, you’re not planning to leave them waiting outside while you sit the exam alone, are you?” Ron inquired.

“Is that not allowed?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I—” She suddenly stopped and glanced around.

“What’s wrong, Hermione? Is someone there?” Harry asked, sensing something amiss but finding nothing.

Hermione pulled out her wand and made a few quick scans but found nothing.

“Maybe I imagined it,” she hesitated.

“It couldn’t be a ghost, could it? Hurry on, being caught casting spells in the corridor by Madam Pince is trouble. Strange though, this cat’s getting more agile. Fred and George aren’t venturing out at night much; they’re asking around for the reason…”

Their voices trailed off in the distance as Felix circled the Potions classroom, then returned to his office, holding several strands of brown hair. He took out a partially finished mirror and, using Hermione’s hair he just acquired, crafted a person-finder mirror.

Felix stood by the fireplace, facing Valen. “I’m going out for a while. Might not be back tonight. Don’t worry.”

“Hm? (Can I come?)” Valen asked.

“Oh, no, sorry,” Felix murmured. “I don’t think so.” Green flames surged as he disappeared within his office.

…

For the next few hours, Felix roamed through Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and wizarding clusters in Britain, carrying the person-finder mirror but gaining no leads.

“Quite clever, Miss Granger. You’ve hidden well.”

As twilight neared, Felix sat in a café near a grand clock tower, Big Ben, a landmark in London. After finishing his coffee, he asked the slightly balding attendant while settling the bill, “Is there a newsstand nearby?”

“Oh, certainly, just around the corner…”

Two minutes later—

Felix stood in front of a newsstand, handing a postcard with proverbs to the young lady there. He politely inquired, “Hello, do you have similar postcards here?”

The young lady examined the card for a while. “Ring a bell, I think. A few months back, a salesman recommended a whole set of celebrity-quote postcards, but I had already bought two hundred sets of London landmark cards, so I didn’t stock them… Want a set?”

She pointed to souvenir cards on display.

“Give me a set,” Felix smiled. The lady’s words confirmed his final guess.

Felix handed her a bill, carrying the set of London landmark cards, slipped into an alley. The next moment, he emerged two streets away, empty-handed. He glanced up; across the alley was a dental clinic.

Nearly three years ago, he bought a wisdom tooth here. Felix chuckled. Mr. Granger must remember him well; such a guest would be quite rare.

Felix lightly tapped his forehead with his index finger. There was no magical glow inside the clinic; he didn’t expect any. Surveying the area, he focused on a bright, vivid viewpoint—similar to the one when he saw Hermione for the first time before joining.

He patiently searched, muttering softly, “I personally told her about the absence of safe long-distance time travel. If she thinks she’s doomed… in her final moments, where would she stay? I should have thought of this sooner.”

Felix gazed at a barely visible dot in his view and smirked. It didn’t take long for him to arrive at the street where the small terraced house was located. It was a favorite of the middle and upper-middle classes—each house with an area of 150-200 square meters, two to three stories high, with individual small gardens and garages.

Felix cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, pausing near one house, staring at the nameplate “Granger” for a moment, then walked into the restaurant opposite, with a “24-hour service” sign. He ordered a few dishes and reconsidered his plan.

He wasn’t intending to meet Hermione, at least until he could resolve the side effects of long-distance time travel.

Time travelers were shielded by the Time-Turner. For a short backward journey of an hour or two, this “protection” wasn’t conspicuous. But if crossing several years, decades, or even centuries without the Time-Turner’s energy, their fate would be grim.

The most prominent example was the unfortunate witch who traveled back five centuries. When she returned to her era, she instantly aged, from youthful to elderly. Saint Mungo’s tried everything, but her body resisted all means to restore her vitality.

Felix could only hope the energy from the vile Hour-Reversal Charm he acquired from “Despicable Herpo” would suffice.

As the evening deepened, Felix sat in a corner of the restaurant, tapping his index finger rhythmically on the table. Patrons ignored him, concentric ripples spread, and his magic and thoughts soon covered the restaurant, then extended outward to envelop the nearby house and street.

He replicated everything around him using the Memory Room magic and overlaid it—similar to creating the snowflake corridor at the Quidditch World Cup. Glancing at the clock on the wall, it was already nine o’clock.

A car stopped across the street, and a middle-aged couple stepped out. Felix closed his eyes, as if standing before the Grangers. They chatted happily as they opened the door, parking the car in the garage. The curtain on the second floor moved slightly.

Despite the dim light of night, Felix “saw” a furry head.

After a few minutes, just as he was about to cease the magic, the window on the second floor opened, and an owl flew out. In the night’s concealment, no one noticed its trail. Like a phantom in the night sky, it circled the house twice, then flew uncontrollably in a direction. The restaurant door abruptly swung open, and the owl landed right in front of Felix.

“For me,” Felix murmured, staring at the envelope. He opened the letter, seeing the familiar handwriting of “Miss Granger.”

“…might not write again; I’m moving elsewhere. Read in the newspaper that you’re coaching and supervising two brave teams at Hogwarts… quite impressive. I saw the recording of the second task… The champions are dealing with immense pressure. I suggest you give them a hug before the match…”

Felix set the letter down, expressionless. “It’s a pity I can’t comply with your wish, Miss Granger.”

>

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