Chereads / Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God / Chapter 39 - Chapter 39: Griffiths' Farewell Ceremony

Chapter 39 - Chapter 39: Griffiths' Farewell Ceremony

After borrowing the book, Wade continued to ask questions. 

The content on Charms had already been explained in detail in Professor Flitwick's book, so Wade's questions focused on Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, such as the Shield Charm(Protego), Disarming Charm(Expelliarmus), Impediment Jinx(Impedimenta), and others.

The quality of Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class is well-known — those who know, know. 

Professor Flitwick didn't ask him to consult Quirrell; instead, he patiently and thoroughly answered all his questions and even lent him a few more books in the end.

Wade felt very grateful in his heart.

There is only one magic school in the entire UK — Hogwarts. The professors here don't have to worry about KPIs(Key Performance Indicator), public comparisons of pass or excellence rates, or even end-of-year evaluations or performance reviews. 

The professors teach entirely out of conscience: some are responsible and dedicated, while others coast through their days, and some simply teach according to their mood, not caring that students still need to take their wizarding exams.

After finishing his questions, Wade remembered Griffiths' request and asked:

"Professor, there's a painting that's been complaining that its current place is too quiet and wants me to move it to the busy entrance hall. Do you think that's possible?"

Professor Flitwick asked, "Is it a painting with a duty?"

Some paintings at Hogwarts have duties, such as the portrait of the Fat Lady outside the Gryffindor common room, and naturally, they can't be moved easily.

Wade thought for a moment . "I don't think so. He said he used to be in the entrance hall, but was moved to the Astronomy Tower to make space for other paintings."

"Oh, oh, I know who you're talking about," Professor Flitwick said with a smile. 

"Griffiths was moved because many of the other paintings complained that he was disturbing their sleep and encouraging Peeves to prank Ministry of Magic officials visiting the school. 

The headmaster and professors at the time decided he needed to be taught a lesson, so they moved him to the quietest place in the school."

"Then, about his request—" Wade asked tentatively.

"Liking a lively environment isn't a crime." Professor Flitwick said kindly. 

"As long as he promises not to encourage Peeves to cause trouble, you can move him. But I'm afraid the entrance hall is off-limits — a lot of the paintings there have issues with Griffiths."

"Sigh, fine, fine. But I really don't understand why they don't like pranks. Pranks can bring so much joy to people!" Griffiths protested, while darting quickly between several nearby portraits.

"Hey, old man, I'm leaving — Shalom, I'd be glad if you write to me after you're done with your calculations, though I don't know if I'll be able to receive it — Barry, and dear Francesco, thank you for your hospitality. Here's a little parting gift in return!"

After taking down the portrait, Wade watched in disbelief as Griffiths turned the old stargazer's telescope 180 degrees, stole the quill and ink from the bespectacled witch, and finally poured the ink over one kid's head and shoved the quill up another kid's nose.

After provoking every single portrait, Griffiths quickly dashed back to his own painting and loudly urged Wade, "Quick, quick, let's go!"

But the portraits didn't care about spatial distance. 

Even though Wade had already left the corridor with the portrait in his arms, the characters from the other paintings still chased Griffiths into his territory and pinned the red-haired wizard down, giving him a good beating.

The bespectacled witch was angrier than Wade had ever seen her before. She kicked Griffiths furiously, screaming, "Do you have any idea how long that took me to calculate? How long it took!"

The kids seemed to treat Griffiths like a trampoline, bouncing up and down on him while shouting loudly.

The old stargazer finally caught up, gave two exhausted punches, and then he seemed to have pulled a muscle in his back and hobbled away clutching his waist in pain.

Wade, of course, couldn't interfere with the brawl happening within the portraits. 

Once everyone had left, he looked at Griffiths, who was sprawled out like a pile of mush, and helplessly asked, "You're about to leave, and you still got yourself beaten up like this—what for?"

"Haha, you wouldn't understand," Griffiths said, flipping over with a footprint still on his forehead. He lay on the grassy valley floor in his portrait and laughed heartily. "Isn't this the perfect farewell ceremony?"

Wade truly didn't understand.

With his hands behind his head, Griffiths gazed up at the sky and said:

"I don't want to leave quietly, where maybe they'd realize only much later — 'Oh, that red-haired guy's gone.' I don't want any sadness or tears when I leave. A little scuffle where everyone ends up happy — isn't that much better?"

Wade thought for a moment. "So basically, everyone else has fun, and you're the only one who gets hurt — that's the kind of world you want, is that it?"

Griffiths paused, then burst into laughter. "Wade, you've got quite the sense of humor too!"

As he laughed, the chaotic scene within the portrait slowly returned to normal — the footprints on Griffiths' body vanished, his torn robe mended itself, the trampled flowers stood tall again, and the broken branches on the trees grew back.

Only the bruises on his face hadn't completely faded.

"Griffiths, you must've been a Gryffindor, right?" Wade asked as he hung the portrait back on the wall.

"Of course! That's obvious at first glance, right?" Griffiths clung to the frame, trying to peek around. "Where is this place?"

"You won't be going back to the entrance hall. This is the main path from the Great Hall to the library. Almost all the students pass through here daily, so it should meet your expectations," Wade explained.

"Oh, not bad, not bad," Griffiths said, clearly pleased.

In the corridor, a few portraits were quietly observing this "newcomer," with some huddling together to whisper.

At that moment, Hermione happened to walk by carrying a pile of books, accompanied by two familiar faces — Harry and Ron. The group had likely just returned from the library and were in the middle of a heated discussion.

"I bet my broomstick it was Snape who let the troll in! He's trying to steal whatever the three-headed dog is guarding," Harry said, holding his breath.

"No, he wouldn't!" Hermione replied angrily. "You can't accuse a school professor like that without proof!"

"Honestly, Hermione, you always think the teachers are saints!" Ron said impatiently. "But I told you—I saw it with my own eyes! When the troll appeared, I went to find you guys, and I saw Snape sneaking upstairs! 

Harry also saw Snape's leg, all bloody from the dog bite. Why do you ignore all these facts just because he's a professor?"

"I trust him not just because he's a professor, but because of Dumbledore! If he was bad, Dumbledore would have figured it out long ago!" Hermione stormed ahead, too frustrated to keep arguing. "Hey, Wade, are you going to study? Let's go together."

"Um—sure." Hermione's tone made people dare not refuse at all. Wade nodded to Harry and Ron before turning to follow Hermione.

"—Completely unreasonable, isn't she?" Ron grumbled, frowning. "Can't Dumbledore be fooled by Snape? Even Merlin was deceived once!"

Harry nodded silently, firmly believing that Snape was the villain.

"Good afternoon, students!" came a cheerful voice from the wall. "You're all Gryffindors, right? I'm a Gryffindor too. I'm Griffiths, and who are you?"

Ron responded, "He's Harry Potter, and I'm Ron Weasley. We haven't seen you before, have we?"

"That's right, I just moved here today!" Griffiths replied, reminiscing. "Weasley and Potter... I think I've known wizards with those surnames before. They're probably your ancestors, aren't they?"

"Really?"

Even Harry became interested at this point, and the two of them momentarily forgot their previous argument, engaging in a conversation with the portrait on the wall.

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