A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 546: The Arrival of Voldemort

Just over ten minutes ago.

In the village of Hogsmeade, the challenge continued.

As per the routine, Felix elucidated on ancient magical scripts in the morning, a segment was reserved at noon for showcasing prowess, and the afternoon was dedicated to on-site ancient language experts, wizarding school professors, and the headmaster, who would raise queries while Felix took charge of answering.

However, following the recent 'disappearance of a dozen dark wizards' and the 'illumination spell by Felix to disperse the dark clouds,' the wizards present were visibly dazed. Despite Felix's words, they mechanically stared at him, still reeling from the recent astonishments.

No one dared step forward for the challenge. Several wizards who had signed magical contracts lamented their predicament.

Felix promptly announced the postponement of the challenge to the next day, urging everyone to rest for a couple of hours before resuming the questioning phase. The wizards dispersed, each needing time to digest everything they had witnessed, especially redefining the ancient magical scripts in their minds.

A handful of wizards and all the journalists remained, encircling Felix, bombarding him with various inquiries.

"Mr. Harp, was the magma-like flame you just used another form of ancient magic?"

"Indeed."

"It was so powerful! Did it... kill those people?"

Felix glanced at the journalist. "You can assume so." The journalist's breath hitched, displaying an awkward smile.

"Mr. Harp, I read about the Illumination Spell in a booklet about ancient magical scripts, but its description was nowhere near as extraordinary as your demonstration...?"

"Ancient magic varies from person to person," Felix patiently explained, "It's challenging to control but lacks limitations."

"Mr. Harp! Oh, excuse me, please! I'm a senior official from the French Ministry of Magic. I corresponded with you through a letter—" interrupted a stout man whose hat got displaced, revealing a few strands of thinning hair.

Felix appraised him, "Giles Fitzgeller?"

"Yes, I'm here on behalf of Maxwell," the man slightly bowed, exposing his balding head, "The French Ministry is interested in introducing new subjects at Beauxbatons School. Can we discuss?"

Felix's eyes lit up, scanning the surroundings for an imposing figure, "Is Madame Maxim not here?"

"She got delayed with some trivial matters, might arrive tomorrow. But the Vice Headmistress of Beauxbatons is here—" the man struggled amidst the crowd, as if about to retch. With one hand on his head and another pointing towards a man several feet away.

"No problem," Felix replied.

At the edge of Hogsmeade Square, Amelia Bones sighed in relief, "Thankfully, no major trouble arose. Who were those dozen dark wizards? Do we have records of them?"

Kingsley replied, "The available data is scarce, and they used a phantom displacement to enter. These dark wizards, however—"

"Proved to be foolish," Mrs. Bones sarcastically remarked.

After a moment, she asked in a low voice, "Is there no news from Mad-Eye's side?"

"No reports yet," Kingsley responded.

"Strange," Mrs. Bones puzzled, "We arranged a day off specifically, leaving unprecedented emptiness in the department. It's the perfect opportunity to seize the Memory Sphere..."

Kingsley shrugged.

"I don't expect Voldemort to show up in this scenario. Let's just eliminate potential threats," Mrs. Bones smiled, "Even without Mad-Eye and the Aurors, there are nearly two to three thousand wizards in Hogsmeade, many among them elite wizards."

Her expression froze upon seeing a particular face. The headmaster of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gilbert Fontana, suddenly turned pale and rushed away.

"Let's follow." With slight hesitation, Mrs. Bones said.

They watched Fontana enter a nearby tent. Mrs. Bones and Kingsley called out twice, receiving no response, realizing something was amiss.

Mrs. Bones cautiously parted the curtains while Kingsley readied a spell, finding the tent empty.

They exchanged glances.

"Not mine? There's no one more rightful to possess it than I," Voldemort sneered. "What if I refuse?" He lazily opened his hand, and the Serpent Wand gleamed in his palm.

Fontana sensed trouble; the wand seemed to have chosen its master. However, he drew his wand, ready for anything, fulfilling his duty as a headmaster.

"Hey!" Voldemort sneered, his vividly red eyes seeming ready to shed blood. He softly said, "Considering you as the first sacrifice wouldn't be a disgrace to it..."

"What did you say?"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light filled his entire vision.

"No!"

...

"No!"

Harry cried out. His mind was in chaos, as if it had been slashed with a knife. All he could see was green light—a color of death. He and another young man in his mind shouted simultaneously, a person he found strangely familiar...

"Harry, wake up!"

Hermione shook him vigorously. He reluctantly opened his eyes, finding himself lying on the ground, resting against the cold earth, a large shadow looming over him. Ron was there, bickering incessantly with Malfoy.

"What did you do to him, Malfoy? I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"It's not him, Ron. It's Harry's scar," Hermione said.

Harry blinked, uninterested in their argument. He felt incredibly heavy-hearted; someone had died, the headmaster of Ilvermorny. A lingering green light remained in his mind. Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy's faces twisted strangely, while Neville stood silently, as motionless as a stone.

He turned his head, seeing Sirius and Snape rushing over from a distance, both looking equally anxious...

Harry massaged his forehead intensely; the scar throbbed like needles.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice tinged with tears, "you can't keep doing this." She took a deep breath. "You can't allow your mind to be invaded—"

"Allow? Hermione, I can't let crucial information slip away, and it's not me being invaded; it's me invading Voldemort's mind!" Harry retorted angrily.

"But they're the same; your mental defenses have become full of holes. It could ruin your practiced Occlumency," Hermione patiently reasoned.

"I can't focus on that now, Hermione. This can wait; we have more important things to do right now," Harry said. He pushed himself up, his hand touching the cold mud, invigorating his spirit. He grabbed some and pressed it against his forehead, the icy sensation easing the pain in his scar.

Raising his head, he stared at the cast-iron gates before him.

"Harry, what did you see? What did he do?" Hermione leaned in, whispering.

"He killed the headmaster of Ilvermorny," Harry said, dazedly.

Horrified, Hermione covered her mouth. Ron and Malfoy were speechless, while Neville's eyes widened, and the just-arrived Sirius and Snape froze in place. They stared at Harry, as if hearing the most absurd thing on earth.

But it was Harry who first

realized. He urgently said, "There's something more critical—Voldemort is coming."

"What?"

"Voldemort is coming, he's heading to Hogwarts to find Professor Harp!"

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