Howl raised his hand slightly, magic surging within it, but unexpectedly, Professor Flitwick suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Wait, Howl!"
After speaking, he turned to look at the person, his tone serious and angry: "Aberc, I think you should show some respect—to a Professor!"
The person was somewhat surprised, then rolled his eyes, stood up, and bowed: "Alright, I'm sorry, truly."
Saying that, he picked up his glass and downed it, then unhappily left the pub.
Professor Flitwick then turned back, sighing: "He was once a student of mine.
Howl, once we take on this profession, this responsibility weighs upon us, driving us to guide them in a good direction… However, reality often doesn't go as planned.
The lag in education, people's self-choices after gaining power, the Expansion of desires… there's just too much.
Especially since Hogwarts accepts Wizards from all over Britain, you understand what that means, right?"
Howl nodded understandingly: "Perhaps… Actually, I was just thinking about how my teacher did it…"
At this point, Professor Flitwick also became curious: "Oh, your teacher? I'm very curious what kind of person she is."
Howl recalled briefly: "My teacher… she was very controlling, she made the king a puppet, and she would turn opposing Wizards into Squibs…
She once tried to control me too, and then I also wanted to kill her… But overall, she really was a very good teacher."
… …
Even Snape couldn't help but wonder at this moment if he had a screw loose.
She wanted to control you, you wanted to kill her, she was a good teacher…
This completely didn't conform to normal human logic…
As they were talking, there was a gentle tapping on the window outside. The few of them looked out to see a silvery, translucent short-haired cat tapping on the window.
Noticing their gaze, it jumped off the window ledge and disappeared.
"Looks like there's trouble again…" Howl frowned slightly, downing the remaining wine in his cup, the bitter taste rushing straight to his head.
The three of them walked out of the pub and into a dark area. Howl's hand suddenly rested on their shoulders. The two instinctively drew their wands—
When they opened their eyes again, the three of them had already arrived in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office on the third floor.
"You could have said something beforehand," Snape suppressed the shock in his heart. Apparition within Hogwarts? Then the last duel… he was even more relaxed than expected!
Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, was somewhat surprised. He could Apparate in places with anti-Apparition charms—provided that anti-Goblin Apparition and anti-Apparition charms weren't set simultaneously.
He knew both.
However, Hogwarts had once been at war with Goblins, so this was one of the few places in this world where both anti-charms existed.
Thinking this, he looked back in surprise.
Do you also have a different bloodline?
The few of them quickly left the office. Howl hadn't even cast a detection spell yet when he felt he had lost two of his painted cats.
Their location was… a corridor on the second floor, near the West Tower…
"I have a bad feeling," Howl said.
Snape's face was ashen. He had just said it might only be related to Parseltongue, and now—
Before they even reached the second-floor corridor, they encountered McGonagall directly at the entrance of the hospital wing.
McGonagall was surprised by the trio's speed, then quickly said: "Another child has been attacked."
Professor Flitwick looked terrified: "Is it serious?!"
McGonagall glanced at Snape, then shook her head: "It's Marcus Flint from Slytherin."
Immediately, everyone was astonished.
What did this mean… a second person framed as the Heir of the Chamber of Secrets? Or purely indiscriminate attacks?
Or… an attempt to incite conflict between pure-blood families and Hogwarts?
All sorts of possibilities quickly ran through Howl's mind. He turned around: "I'll go to the scene first."
He quickly reached the deeper part of the corridor and clearly found shattered picture frames scattered on the ground, with the surrounding canvas torn in several places.
The death of a magical painting begins with the canvas.
He opened his hands, and fine crimson threads gradually condensed, finally forming two drops of blood in his hand, which fell into his palm, quickly permeated his skin, and returned to his body.
Then, a scene appeared in his mind.
In the dim corridor, Flint was moving quickly, seemingly having an appointment. Then, at the corner, a somewhat hunched, fat figure suddenly appeared and quickly waved a wand.
The voice was indistinct, but judging from the constantly externalizing sharp spikes in the spell's trajectory, it was a Dark Arts spell.
Flint narrowly dodged, and at the same time, the cat in the mural quickly began to let out a strange, shrill howl.
Surveillance had always been merely an auxiliary function.
The core function was suppression.
The purpose of this action was to protect the children immediately when a dangerous incident was detected.
Compared to this purpose, things like secrecy or whether the painted cat would be exposed were negligible!!
[Buster's Ballad]was rapidly chanted, suppressing the surrounding magic. The singing, like eerie whispers, drilled into the minds of the two.
The hunched figure painfully bent down, but the next moment, a spreading, violent magical power exploded from his body.
It didn't seem like a spell… but rather a pure magical riot…
The vision ended…
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[email protected]/Rexlent
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"