A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 592: Potion - (1)

Before the students' attention could fully focus on Dumbledore, he had already left, just as unexpectedly as he appeared.

Felix knew the school was brimming with anti-apparition charms; ordinary folk couldn't apparate within the castle's confines. But undoubtedly, the Headmaster possessed certain privileges. Yet Felix sensed Dumbledore's urgency in pinpointing the sudden burst of magic within the castle, leveraging the power of the phoenix.

Felix had at least two ways to accomplish the same thing.

The first, undoubtedly, involved magical talents with magical creatures. He might not need to apparate but could convert such talents into ancient magic, bypassing the castle's restrictions.

The second required a clever maneuver, involving a part of the castle's defense system—the Room of Requirement. Embedded by Lady Ravenclaw into the castle's magic, Felix could gain access indirectly by deciphering some of its secrets. In theory, if the Room of Requirement responded to him, he could use it as a transit point to navigate within the castle.

The students in the office seemed excited, energetic. Felix offered them various pastries and cookies.

"No Canary Creams in here, right?" Fred asked nervously.

"You just reminded me," Felix replied, waving his hand, nothing seemingly happening, but Fred was visibly spooked, eyeing the snacks on the small table warily.

Luna picked up a Ginger Newt biscuit, took a bite, and said, "I don't think this one's enchanted." She seemed to reassure him, but others—including Felix—felt her words had the opposite effect, making Fred more cautious.

"Did Professor Dumbledore just come by?" Harry asked uncertainly. "I thought I saw him."

"He did, and then he left," Felix replied succinctly.

"Professor," Hermione couldn't help but ask, "why did Harry's Patronus... change so drastically? Is there a trick to it?" Others leaned in, curious about the answer. Harry, too, awaited Professor Snape's response.

Felix pondered for a moment before saying, "Earlier, I proposed a hypothesis that Patronuses serve a different purpose. Some of you," his gaze shifted between a few, "may have equally strong ideals, believing you wouldn't give up, yet these difficulties never truly materialized; your 'determination' was just an illusion."

"Harry's difference lies in his belief not being unfounded. He persevered through those harsh dangers and setbacks—his courage becomes compelling when he remains resolute despite all odds."

The group silently contemplated his words. Harry felt somewhat embarrassed, trying to pretend he was pondering when his mind was blank.

"Cedric," he said, "can I understand it this way? 'Believing you can overcome challenges' only gives you false courage and belief, whereas 'proving yourself' provides real courage and belief. The former might be encouraging, but... it's like building castles in the air."

Felix smiled and nodded towards him.

"Think about it, how many vows have we made in our lives, and how many have we fulfilled?" he mused.

"People who achieve great things in history rarely had an easy path. They, too, tasted the bitterness of failure. What sets them apart is the choice after the failure. If those individuals were wizards, I reckon their Patronuses wouldn't be too shabby."

In the evening, Felix penned a letter to his less-than-prompt correspondent.

Starting with 'I have a student,' he elaborated extensively on his newfound discovery about the Patronus charm. Then, changing the course of his pen, using 'I have another student' as a pretext, he introduced the concept of the Deathly Hallows.

"…I'm certainly not mocking your use of someone else's emblem; I'm genuinely curious, did none of your followers raise objections? As a scholar, I must point out the risks: while the Peverell family was among the earliest to vanish, it was only the disappearance of their male lineage. The descendants of the three brothers might be scattered somewhere. How would they feel seeing their ancestors' emblem become a symbol for an ill-reputed organization?"

Nurmengard.

"Detestable brat!"

When Grindelwald read the letter, half a month had passed, somewhere in late April or early May. His face, etched with wrinkles, stared at the paper, revealing a peculiar smile. "Belief? Far from enough. You need to burn yourself."

He turned slightly to look at the house-elf.

"Bondy?" Grindelwald spoke softly.

"M-Master Grindelwald." The house-elf Bondy stood far away from the hard bed, bowing humbly.

"Why fear me? Warned by those 'adults' about how cruel I am? Little creature, you have the right to know more.

Half a century ago, a man named Dumbledore with his band of children dismantled my vast followers—when I was at my most confident and ready. Had to fight. I lost. My magic was confined, stripped of my innate spellcasting rights, unable to conjure a decent spell. Locked up for half a century."

The house-elf lowered his head further, almost pressing his nose to the ground. He couldn't remember how many times the International Confederation of Wizards' 'wizarding adults' had warned him, so he made up his mind: if this gentleman wanted him to help escape, he'd bolt before he finished speaking.

He spoke with a trembling voice, "Wizard, if you don't need a reply, Bondy will—"

"No, no, no, Bondy," Grindelwald softly interrupted him.

"Your master was once my follower. When I entered here, still loyal. Don't you want to know why you've been sent here? And why the Confederation's 'adults' tolerated your existence? They wished for my starvation."

"Your master and I were brought together by common ideals, and I was... just a bit ahead."

Grindelwald extended his hand; Bondy hesitated, undecided, but convinced, slowly approached. Finally, their hands overlapped.

Grindelwald smiled, no traces left of his youth; cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, teeth almost gone, resembling a skeleton. He said to the trembling house-elf, "See, wasn't that easy?"

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"Though I'm not your master, surely you've been asked to make me comfortable as much as possible? I promise you, my requests won't exceed occasionally using your eyes to observe the outside world…"

"I need you, as much as I appreciate your care all this time."

"Now, I'd like you to show me some magical skills. I used to do better, but now I find solace in your magic."

Bondy sighed with relief, complying with the request. The house-elf did his utmost, conjuring various dazzling tricks he knew. Then, panting, he stopped, and Grindelwald thanked him, saying, "If there's a chance in the future, I'll be very grateful to see more."

The house-elf bowed and departed.

The room, prison-like, was left with one person.

Grindelwald lifted his head, staring at the window—or what could pass for a window, perhaps just a narrow gap between black stone blocks? The mountain wind howled, casting eerie shadows.

He was very familiar with everything here, even remembered the engraved words at the entrance, "For the Greater Good," his own handiwork. 'Nurmengard,' the name he chose for the prison, to oppose his adversaries.

Ironically, after his defeat, he wasn't executed but imprisoned here.

Now, he was the only living soul here.

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