A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

The day passed by in tranquility. The following day, the Ministry of Magic held a press conference, with Minister Amelia Bones acting as the spokesperson. She stood on the steps with a group of reporters and photographers below, interspersed with onlookers. She glanced at Kingsley, who nodded in response.

Ms. Bones calmly announced, "Regarding the rumors circulating in the newspapers about Mr. Felix Harp obtaining the Elder Wand, it has been confirmed to be false. I personally inspected his wand, and it's not the Elder Wand as rumored. As known, besides being highly skilled in Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies, Mr. Harp is also a whimsical writer. His best-selling comic series, 'The Adventures of Young Wizard Mickey,' revived L.C.A Publishing House. In conceptualizing this masterpiece, he drew inspiration from various similar works, naturally integrating the spirit of the renowned poet, Bido, who has influenced countless young wizards."

"Are you suggesting Mr. Harp named his wand the Elder Wand due to his admiration for Bido?"

"Yes."

"Are you denying the existence of the Elder Wand?"

"Perhaps it exists, but it's certainly not in Mr. Harp's possession or within the scope of our discussion today," Ms. Bones replied.

"How did you verify it? What if he disguised it?"

"I don't doubt my own eyes," Ms. Bones said coldly. "Next question."

"What if he has a second wand?"

Bones scrutinized the person speaking from behind her monocle. "I don't recall inviting you. Which paper are you from?"

"I-I'm here for tourism," the balding man replied nervously.

"Very well," Ms. Bones said calmly. "We'll examine your entry permit after this conference. Otherwise, prepare to pay a fine."

She cleared her throat and continued, "The situation may be more complex than anticipated. I can disclose one piece of information: the chief editor of the 'Daily Prophet,' who approved this article, seems to have fallen victim to the Dementor's Kiss. This suggests a potentially significant conspiracy. Given the current situation, we have reason to suspect a connection between this and Voldemort and his malevolent cohorts."

The room fell into a hush as if someone had cast a silencing spell.

"Are you certain?"

"I've used the terms 'seems' and 'potentially,'" Ms. Bones said sternly. "But if you're well-informed, you'll notice this article appeared in over a dozen countries. That can't be a coincidence!"

"I disdain those behind such schemes. They can't even distinguish the most basic fact, that Mr. Harp specializes in Ancient Runes, a field currently thriving in Britain thanks to his efforts."

"Though Mr. Harp isn't articulate, he regrets this misrepresentation of priorities. Hence, he has entrusted me to organize an event in the last weekend of October, the 27th, in the village of Hogsmeade."

Another reporter questioned, "Why wait? Couldn't he just come forward and deny ever having the Elder Wand?"

"Because that's trivial!" Ms. Bones interrupted. "Compared to promoting Ancient Runes, the Elder Wand holds no value to Mr. Harp. That's the difference between him and you—"

Rita Skeeter glared at her fiercely.

Excitedly, the other journalists took notes, their quills seemingly smoking, and flashes from cameras continued incessantly.

"Moreover, it must be mentioned that Albus Dumbledore, head of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and headmaster of Hogwarts, has submitted an application to the International Confederation of Wizards. This event will be an international gathering, inviting esteemed wizards worldwide, including ancient language experts and heads of magical schools from various countries."

The journalists were stunned. Quills, held in the air, seemed frozen in shock and dropped to the ground.

Big news indeed.

Rita Skeeter, seizing a green quill, looked ecstatic. Her expression promised a series of best-selling articles.

For the next few minutes, the room was filled only with the excited chirping of quills.

"All visitors must register in advance, and the event is confined solely to the village of Hogsmeade. Violators will face severe penalties."

"Can you elaborate on the event?" Rita Skeeter diligently asked.

"At present, apart from showcasing his research, Mr. Harp will reluctantly spare time to entertain challenges from anyone—"

"Wait! Challenges?"

The reporters detected the crucial word.

"Yes," Ms. Bones said, gazing at the excited foreign faces. She and a few select Ministry wizards had witnessed Felix Harp's encounter with Voldemort firsthand.

"Since you're all so eager, I suppose none of you would refuse to sign a life-and-death pact, would you?" she continued calmly, reading from her prepared statement, "The event is expected to last three days—"

"The Ministry will actively negotiate with various magical ministries, and we plan to broadcast the event live with technical support from Future World," she concluded.

The press conference ended amid intense interest.

When the news reached Hogwarts the following morning, students hurriedly exchanged information at the breakfast table, sharing knowing looks that said, "I knew something big was happening." Then they dashed off to their classes.

Over the next few days, an atmosphere of restlessness pervaded the school. This restlessness manifested in classes, with daring students unable to resist asking related questions.

"Professor Black, who do you think is more skilled, you or Professor Harp?" an impertinent student asked.

Sirius glared, "Such comparisons are meaningless. Moreover, no provocation between professors. Gryffindor loses five points."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione smirked.

Sirius couldn't overlook their reactions. He regretted sharing his past experience of being outmatched by Felix Harp. Irritated, he retorted, "Since you've asked, let me pose a similar question: how do you think you fare compared to Malfoy?"

"We can try," he raised his wand, looking menacingly at the students. "Malfoy has had plenty of exposure to real combat, unlike playing make-believe like you all... it's actual combat, often against cunning and ruthless Dark Wizards."

"Those trained in dueling and those with no experience perform entirely differently. Further, having practical combat experience or not makes a substantial difference in understanding dueling and its nuances."

"Take myself, for instance. I might not necessarily surpass you by a huge margin, but even if we use the same spell, the power remains at a similar level. The difference is still significant..." He paused, assuming a challenging stance, the implication clear.

"Who's up first?"

Harry was eager, but Sirius pretended not to notice, nursing his grudge. "Zabini, you're up." He pointed at a student, Blaise Zabini, who confidently stepped forward, his friends whistling in support. "Harry, start us off."

Sirius and Breezus faced each other, locking eyes. When Harry shouted "begin," both moved simultaneously. Sirius flicked his wrist, and Breezus's wand flew out of his hand.

"A small trick, but gripping your wand tightly would only make the spell deflect your arm slightly, but it's perfect for this." Sirius explained. "Again!"

Breezus retrieved his wand, holding it firmly

this time.

"Begin!" Harry yelled.

Both raised their wands—

"Disarm you!" Breezus declared with gusto, but Sirius struck first.

"Non-verbal spells always give you the upper hand," Sirius said, tilting his head.

"This time, we'll both use the same incantation. Let's go again," he challenged.

Breezus hesitated for a moment, picking up his wand cautiously, eyeing Sirius.

After a brief silence—n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Disarm you!" "Disarm you!" they simultaneously shouted.

This time, Sirius dodged swiftly, while Breezus got hit. His wand flew out of his grip several times.

"Even when two people cast the same spell simultaneously, I have a chance to evade or redirect the spell. There are many ways to respond," Sirius said. "You may have read about similar dueling techniques in textbooks or stories, maybe even practiced in private. But in real combat, you might forget to use them or use them ineffectively."

"Your teacher last year—Alastor Moody—I've crossed paths with him. He had a saying that stuck with me: 'Stay vigilant at all times.' I'm not telling you to be like him, but at least, you should know what to do when danger approaches. If you can't learn it, let your body remember!"

...

Late at night, Felix spread out the new version of the moving map. Lines wove through Hogwarts Castle and the Forbidden Forest, emerging like sprouts after rain. His index finger lightly touched an inconspicuous corner, and in an instant, shadows and mist enveloped the area. The original pattern vanished swiftly, replaced by new pathways extending from a corner of Hogwarts Castle to reveal a new map.

It depicted a small village composed of numerous cottages and shops, bearing many familiar names: Ambrose Froom from Honeydukes, Madam Puffal from Madam Puffal's Tea Emporium, Mrs. Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks, Zonko from Zonko's Joke Shop, and the male bartender from The Hog's Head... Albus Dumbledore.

Honestly, Felix was startled the first time he saw that name.

At this moment, he lowered his head, gazing down at the names within Hogsmeade Village—

"Let me see who's been wandering near Hogwarts and which strangers have appeared."

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