By the time Felix returned to his room, it was very late and the sky had turned inky black.
Valen yawned in boredom as she made colourful sparks erupt from the tip of her exclusive wand, and wondered: how could that old guy who had fried her little snake have managed to do incredible things with his exclusive wand? It is obvious that her wand has more gems.
When she saw the Great Demon King push open the door and come out, Valen immediately scurried up to his shoulder and chattered.
"You can't compare him to Filch," Felix said, "Filch hasn't really been exposed to magic in all his life, so even if he gets another exclusive wand, he has to rely heavily on the built-in magic within the gem ... "He looked over at his desk where a few letters were placed, and there were also many messy owl claw marks and biscuit crumbs on his desk.
Valen patted her chest to show that she had entertained the guests.
"Good job."
Felix walked over to the desk and sat down, opened the letter, and skimmed through it quickly; the first two letters came from Ms. Bones and Lupin, and the only thing that was more unexpected was the fact that Rita Skeeter had written to him as well.
The owners of several of the letters gave a general introduction to their recent activities, with Ms. Bones being the briefest, as she had been writing letters to him for some time, so many greetings had been omitted.
"... All is well, Sirius sent me a set of puzzles today, said it was a muggle pastime ... Ah, Merlin, I have no idea what's going on in his head, don't I look busy enough? " The next few paragraphs were all about Sirius, and mentioned his new job, but most of them were complaints that served no purpose other than to make Felix even more regretful that he hadn't caught him before school started. "He's not the only one gathering information, but I'm short of people I can trust completely, and there are rumours going around the Ministry right now that I'm preparing a whole series of reforms, but I feel more like a puppet, Felix Hap, you bastard, you have never told me that you've opened Future World Company in Muggle society, a whole seven branches!"
Felix grinned, after so many days of correspondence, Ms. Bones had sort of gotten to know him well - or maybe learned from Sirius - and Felix made a note of it. He picked up his quill and wrote back.
"Amelia, those seven outlets won't come in handy for future plans, and the clerks aren't even aware that their boss is a wizard, which would seriously dent their motivation in the future... Regarding the staffing issue, I do have some suggestions. If it's a matter of secrecy, I suggest you expand the Muggle Liaison Office on a limited basis. The reasons are also readily available: the old laws are not keeping up with the current changes, and there is an urgent need to update the articles, for which a great deal of information needs to be collected ..."
Felix glanced at Rita Skeeter's pink envelope, and an idea suddenly struck him.
"... I can recommend someone who has a good position in the Muggle media, with access to valuable sources of information, and has a keen media sense. ... You should have heard of her, her name is Rita Skeeter. It's incredible how fast she has managed to climb the social ladder in just two years' time, isn't it?
And by the way, you can talk to Mundungus about smuggling, I'm sure it'll be a shock, but don't give him a single bit of information - he's notorious for selling information, and in a dire time, you can even buy him off with a glass of hot Firewhisky... "
The second letter came from Lupin, and as Felix looked at the dense table on it, it became apparent that what Lupin was about to explain was official business.
"... A total of 127 exclusive wands were sold, and all of the buyers had previous ties to the magical community, so they were quickly vetted by the Ministry of Magic.
The only exception was Mrs. Arabella Figg, Dumbledore wrote to me specifically asking for a favour, in fact, there was really no need, when I saw that she lived in Privet Drive I knew exactly what was going on. ... The Ministry of Magic's branch office two streets away was packed and a number of parents of students came over with the intention of trying it out, all in all, there was quite a buzz. There's a new business that advertises itself as 're-employment skills training', I don't know who came up with that term ... but frankly it will take time for them to get official approval, the wizarding community can't accept so many people at once... ..."
"Arthur has been very happy lately. His son Percy has become the youngest head in the Ministry and is said to be younger than the former Chesterton Avery, but of course, Avery is a thing of the past and his death is still an unsolved case with no Death Eater acknowledging responsibility for this crime ... Percy is now busy negotiating and preparing documents with the Ministry of Magic in fourteen countries every day. Penelope said that he has plans to learn two more foreign languages and try to surpass Mr. Crouch, which, I think, is really a difficult task ..."
Felix wrote back in a cheerful mood.
But he was not that happy when he unfolded the letter from Rita Skeeter; this woman had sent the letter to ask for money! She took credit for the hot buzz of the exclusive wand, but Felix didn't share the same view, and he couldn't remember when he had ever conveyed that level of interest. So when Felix passed the letter on to Valen, not only did he immediately gain an ally who was on the same page as him, but Valen also volunteered to help him in writing a reply, which Felix agreed to with a grin on his face.
He read the entire two sheets of parchment refuting it and didn't change a single word, except for a slight mention at the end that the Ministry of Magic is rich and there will be opportunities to make extra money in the near future. But the mouth must be tight, or the consequences would be far worse than the illegal Animagus thing...
After finishing all this, Felix stretched and paced to stand in front of the window.
He stared at the dark silhouette of the castle, the forbidden forest, and the hills in the distance, and thought about the tributary that had been branched out from the depths of Voldemort's memory. It is too early to call it a 'tributary', it is at best a small spring that would not exist without Felix's help.
The cool night breeze blew in his face, bringing him the scent of lush vegetation. Valen climbed up along his trouser leg and looked out over the shimmering black lake in the moonlight, and handed him a chocolate frog in the process. Felix ripped open the wrapper and took a bite out of the chocolate frog's head.
The sweetness and bitterness of the chocolate melted away in his mouth as he looked at the picture on the chocolate frog card. The picture showed an angry woman with long black hair and a pair of half-moon-rimmed glasses, and she was holding a huge sign that read 'Stop Spell Suppression!'.
Felix glanced at the witch's name: Carlotta Pinkstone. He froze for a moment; that radical activist? He turned the picture over to the back and, sure enough, there was her introduction printed on it as
Carlotta Pinkstone (1922—present):
Famous campaigner for lifting the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy and telling Muggles that wizards still exist. Ms. Pinkstone has been imprisoned several times for her blatant and deliberate use of magic in public places.
If his maths was correct, this person will be released this year, Felix thought, a year ahead of Barty Crouch. He is going to keep an eye on the most recent papers, there are just under four months to go before the end of the year.
Felix yawned and rubbed his forehead, on his way back to his bedroom he saw that the tower light in the Headmaster's office was still on, it seemed he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep tonight. He just wonders, would the school replace the new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts class at the speed of light?
As it turned out, Dumbledore had somehow managed to convince Grindelwald, and the next few lessons were only related to non-verbal spells. But Felix would not assume that Grindelwald had subscribed to those Muggle military magazines purely out of interest.
It wasn't just due to paranoia; Dumbledore had once asked for a copy of the Marauder's map, and it was hard to believe that Dumbledore hadn't asked for it out of concern that this old man would sneak out and smuggle back a full set of Muggle military equipment to use as teaching aids.
It probably wouldn't be long before the course would progress to the chapter on 'how to identify and defend against small firearms'. There's no need for Grindelwald to worry about how to make a full outline about it or even part of it; Felix has provided great detail in 'The 'Magic' of the Muggle World' book...
Because of the requirements of the non-verbal spell casting and the wandless manifestation of magic rune, it was common to see red-faced students everywhere in the school these days, glaring at a plant, or the food on their plates. If one stared long enough, one would see the expressions on these students' faces quickly slide down from pique to a dull stare. Felix had seen a similar sight almost every year, but he still found it interesting, the students looked as if they were programmed to behave more or less the same, and Felix was tempted to write to the Weasley twins to give them ideas for their new product.
The non-verbal spell is not a specific spell, but a whole set of spell casting techniques that are used in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration classes. The sudden and strict requirements had left the sixth-year students in a severely frustrated mood, and it was as if they were back to the last two months of their fifth-year O.W.Ls exams, and their whole being seemed like they were possessed.
"I'm not in a nightmare, am I?" Seamus complained loudly, "Nonverbal spell, Ancient Runes class that require wandless spell casting, and the Herbology class that made us deal with tentacles that spewed slimy jizz ..."
After two days, the students finally realized that none of the sixth-year Advanced Classes are easy. Neither the Nonverbal spell nor the Wandless Manifestation of Magic Rune, in particular, could be mastered in a short time, and it was rumoured that Professor Hap had claimed in the fifth-year class that he had prepared large detention rooms for students who couldn't meet the requirements and still failed to write their assignment.
"It's true." Luna said to Ron from the bleachers at Saturday's Quidditch selection.
Ron had a bitter look on his face; he certainly hadn't written a single word on his essay, and to make the matter worse - he wasn't sure whether or not he is considered as meeting the requirement. During the breakfast hour, Hermione had advised him to stop trying to leave things to chance, "Unless the professor keeps an eye on you from start to finish in the next class and gives you dozens of chances to try, you're not going to make it, and that's simply not going to happen!"
The success rate, yes, is a problem that plagues all students who have taken the Ancient Runes class.
It was quite obvious that the professor is far more tricky than the young wizards could ever imagine, and he certainly wouldn't give one person dozens of chances, that wouldn't be realistic. There are plenty of students in the class now, and even Ron couldn't think of any reason for the professor to agree. But the problem is, at the moment, there is no student who is 100% successful, Neville had given up early and asked for a reference book list from Hermione that the professor had given out in advance, and was reading the bulk of the book with a whimper.
Seamus and Dean in the same dorm were affected by this and barely managed to read a few dozen pages, and then those books proved to have incredibly good hypnotic effects.
So when Ron's eyes averted from the messy Quidditch pitch - Harry was busy as captain - he nearly dropped his jaw when he saw a few magic runes dancing around Luna's fingertips.
"How did you do that?" Ron said, swallowing hard, as he could see clearly that Luna wasn't holding a wand in her hand.
"What do you mean?" Luna said cheerfully, she loved the hustle and bustle over the silence, so it was no surprise that she appeared when half of Gryffindor House and a small group of other house students had come over, not to mention her good friend Ginny also participating in the selection process, with her fiery red hair shining brightly in the pitch.
Ron pointed at the magic runes in Luna's hand and his eyes went wide.
"You have to make friends with them," Luna said, "they each have their own personalities, there are some I don't know very well yet, they're quite temperamental ... but on the whole, they're pretty good to deal with. "
"Can you tell me more?"
Ron listened with some confusion, but also found this insight very refreshing, maybe he could write Luna's comments in his essay?
Luna went into more detail, each magic rune had its own personality and mood in her eyes, and she even managed to tell the stories of some of the magic runes, finding corresponding characters for them. "I think this one feels like Harry." She said.
Ron stared at the purple magic rune Luna is pointing at, and then at Harry, who was shouting at the top of his lungs on the pitch; he couldn't really imagine what the two had in common; is it because of the messy ring of light resembles Harry's hair, or does this rune also have a flat lightning bolt shape at the tip of its symbol?
What was even more incomprehensible to him was that he couldn't understand why he was associated with the ugly, dirt-yellow rune in Luna's eyes.
"I'd say it looks like you, you're both dirty yellow in colour." Ron shot back, feeling insulted.
"Looks like you've got the hang of it." Luna said, before turning her head back to the pitch.
Ron looked at the pitch with some bemusement, he didn't know how Luna had managed to make the Ancient Rune class sound like a divination class. Moreover, Professor Hap was very different from Trelawney. If he dared to hand in such an assignment with the same nonsense that he had used to fool Trelawney, Professor Hap would detain him until Christmas break.
...
Harry looked jealously at Ron and Katie Bell, who were enjoying themselves at their leisure in the bleachers, as he felt that this selection was dreadful. Because there is no age requirement, many first and second-year students have signed up, even taking up the vast majority of the spaces. These people are struggling to even get the broom to fly at 70% of their original speed, let alone compete with the regular players. For example, just now, a chaser even threw himself into the goal because he was so nervous, causing the crowd to laugh.
Not to mention that boy, probably because he was so embarrassed, rode off on the old comet broom and decided to go back to the castle and hide as if he intended to never return. Harry had to go after him to get the broom back, but he still relented and let the teary-eyed boy go.
When Harry returned to the pitch, it was as if he had taken on the role of the boy, with half the spectators pointing and laughing at him.
Harry was very glad that Hermione hadn't come, he had rejected the vast majority of her suggestions at the time on the grounds that she didn't know anything about Quidditch. This seemed to have dented Hermione's pride, so by the time she arrived, the selection was nearing its end, and at the end, Harry took the new players to fly around the pitch for a few rounds as the students in the stands gave them a few cheeky pats on their backs.
"So, the selection process went pretty well?" Hermione asked smartly when they got off their brooms.
"The results are promising." Harry said stiffly, and he made up his mind that if Hermione asked for specifics, he would decline her question on the grounds that he couldn't reveal team secrets. But Hermione just looked at the crowd leaving the bleachers and raised an eyebrow in a noncommittal manner.
"It's like watching a fantastic burlesque." Luna commented with joy.
Hermione and Ginny curled up and laughed at the same time. Ron didn't laugh, which made Harry mentally lament how strong their friendship had grown.
"Let's go, I saw smoke rising from Hagrid's hut when I came." Hermione said with a straight face as she stood up.
Harry pretended not to see the tears of laughter coming out of the corners of her eyes.
Luna dragged Ginny away mysteriously, so the three remaining ones changed their direction and walked sullenly towards Hagrid's hut.
They are going to salvage a friendship that is on the verge of shattering, simply because they had wisely decided not to take Hagrid's advanced class. This was said by Ron, who pessimistically predicted that Hagrid would let Grawp guard the door, carrying a big stick, and that they would have to go through nine deaths before they could see the upset Hagrid.
They heard a loud snorting sound as they approached the hut and the three of them looked at each other cautiously.
"Oh my goodness." Hermione said sadly, obviously thinking that Hagrid was sadly crying his nose off.
Even Harry and Ron thought the same thing. It couldn't possibly be a cold, could it? They approached uneasily, wondering what to do to comfort Hagrid; they had barely thought of the other possibilities, which was why Harry was so surprised to hear the voice of a second person in the hut when he went up to knock on the door in a flustered mood.
"Yes, those little heartless kids ... Potters have never written to me on his own accord, not a single letter, and I even gave him my prized Liquid Luck!" Slughorn said absentmindedly, "Hagrid, can I come to its funeral? I've never been able to get closer to an Acromantula ..."
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