A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts
Chapter 653: Fertile Ground - (2)

Felix sat at the Three Broomsticks, with a glass of chilled lemonade on the table.

He'd been there for a while when the landlady, Madam Rosmerta, approached, gritting her teeth. "Mr. Harp, you can't bring those folks in here; I still have a business to run!"

"But I paid, Madam Rosmerta."

"True... But they scared off my other customers! And what if they decide to bite me tonight? I haven't slept well these past few days. Not that I'm complaining... But today's different. If they suddenly go berserk, I don't have your abilities."

"You have a point. Let's settle the bill for double the usual rate for this time, and... I'll make sure they leave soon. They are indeed a bit risky today."

"Really?" Madam Rosmerta's eyes brightened, relieved. "You should have done this sooner. Forget about the double fee, just promise to come by more often. Many people hope to see you here." She chuckled.

"I had no idea I was this popular," Felix said wistfully.

"It's recent," Madam Rosmerta said solemnly. "Like Carlotta Pinkstone... Yeah, I know her. She stayed with me for a while, but now I don't know where she's gone..."

"I prefer that Metamorphmagus girl, though. She tells jokes about witches, healers, and Muggleborns that are hilarious. I didn't get them at first, and she seemed annoyed for half an hour about it. But if you run into her and she tells you one, they're really quite funny..."

Madam Rosmerta turned and walked away, soon returning with a complimentary glass of Firewhisky. But Felix barely had a sip before people started coming downstairs, looking like they were cut from the same cloth:

Wearing tattered, patched-up clothes, looking weary, with somber faces, nervously looking around. These were the people Felix had invited, the werewolves. But when Felix gestured to them, they didn't relax; instead, they became more alert.

"All right, everyone," Felix snapped his fingers, and several heavy pouches of coins landed on the table. "For the sake of Galleons, I request you line up and follow me. I've set up temporary lodgings for you on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. You'll be staying there for the next week."

Felix led the way out.

The werewolves exchanged glances, but he didn't give them a chance to speak. After a brief standoff, a tall, burly man stepped forward, grabbed one of the pouches, inspected it, and the others noticed that his face seemed to be lit up by a bright light.

Gulp!

He swallowed hard and tucked the bag into his pocket, then walked out. The other werewolves silently followed.

...

Just before lights out, Harry returned looking dazed, even a bit panicky, stumbling as if sleepwalking, muttered the password twice, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. He tried to slip inside but was stopped by a hand.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Nothing, Hermione," Harry mumbled.

"How could it be nothing? We were standing right at the door, but you completely ignored us. Ron called you twice," Hermione said softly, and Ron nodded, confirming her words.

"What did Dumbledore teach you?" Ron asked urgently. "But whatever it is, I bet it's really hard. You look a bit like Luna." He studied Harry's expression.

Harry shook his head. "He showed me some memories, um, I'm still not sure... Anyway, let's talk about it tomorrow. Goodnight." With that, he tried to go in again, just wanting to lie down in bed alone, in silence.

But he was stopped again, this time by Ron — the Fat Lady didn't look too pleased. "Are you guys coming in or not?" — "Don't go yet, we're heading to the courtyard." Ron looked at Harry with a puzzled expression, then winked at him. "It's a full moon tonight."

"A full moon?" Harry said blankly, only understanding the meaning of the words after a while.

"Yeah, I guess you're not giving up on Animagus. You can still get a free piece of Mandrake Leaf," Ron said, frowning. "But I can't, I've used up both pieces, so I have to do a month's labor for Sprout... or buy them myself. But I think, since there are ready-made ones at school... Hermione's because—"

"I can sense the Mandrake's movement," Hermione said tersely.

"Awesome!" Harry said, giving her a thumbs-up.

"Are you mocking me? I know all about it," Hermione glared at Harry, who noticed Ron quietly fiddling with his nails, murmuring, "Um—while you were in class, something interesting happened. Hermione was boasting, and I couldn't resist—"

"I wasn't boasting!" Hermione snapped, leading the way downstairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Perhaps Harry should share his insightful views on character flaws with Hermione too," Ron suggested.

"I'd rather not get into trouble," Harry replied immediately.

They arrived in the courtyard, where Professor McGonagall and some students were already waiting. Harry keenly noticed that there were fewer people today than the first time. "Some have given up," Hermione whispered, looking around, "Where's Professor Snape?"

McGonagall addressed this question while distributing Mandrake leaves.

"Your Professor Snape is on leave, he has important matters to attend to."

"At a time like this?" Ernie Macmillan muttered quietly, "Sounds dubious."

"But it's true," McGonagall said sternly, "If I were you, Macmillan, I'd focus more on practicing."

After handing out the Mandrake leaves, and giving some earfuls of instructions, the students dispersed. Hermione briefed McGonagall on her latest progress, then they headed back to the castle.

On the way, Hermione mentioned Dumbledore's class content again. Harry was relieved to have a Mandrake leaf in his mouth, which gave him an excuse to speak less, though it was losing its effect on him.

He exchanged a few words with Ron and Hermione and then returned to the dormitory, leaving Ron and Hermione staring at each other.

"Is his class not going well?" Ron asked with concern.

"Maybe Dumbledore showed Harry some shocking memories, and he's having a hard time accepting..." Hermione whispered, "Though I can't figure out what use it has for Harry's scar, but Dumbledore must have his reasons. Let's ask him more carefully tomorrow."

In the dormitory, Harry lay on his bed, feeling like something inside him had collapsed.

At first, everything seemed fine. He and Dumbledore spent what felt like half an hour in reality, watching the former Dumbledore family having dinner, exchanging gifts, overall in a pleasant and enviable atmosphere. Then, the next memory segment, their situation took a sharp turn downward. They moved houses, the smiles vanished from their faces, the youngest, Ariana, appeared nervous, Aberforth's fists clenched with anger whenever no one was looking, his eyes burning with furious flames; Aberforth grew quieter, but a hint of sorrow flashed in his eyes whenever he looked at his sister...

And most importantly, the master of the house disappeared.

"...When Ariana was six, she performed magic in the garden, three Muggle boys saw it through the hedge, at that time, the ignorant witch-hunting mindset was still spreading in remote areas, they got scared, but also mustered up the barbaric courage to attack her. Since then, Ariana suffered severe psychological trauma, unable to control her magic anymore. My father was outraged and went to teach those Muggles a lesson, then... he was thrown into Azkaban, and we, well, we chose to leave that sad place. No one could predict the greater tragedy waiting for us..."

The first class ended with a young Aberforth receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter.

Dumbledore didn't demand secrecy from Harry, which seemed to imply that he could tell Ron and Hermione, but he only said trivial things. He felt responsible for keeping Dumbledore's past secret, as if letting others know about his tragic experiences was a blasphemy against his great character.

He wasn't sure why he felt that way, or why Dumbledore showed him these memories. To Harry, it seemed like Dumbledore cruelly laid bare his own experiences in front of his students.

He stared at the full moon outside, seemingly hearing the howl of wolves. Of course, Harry wouldn't know that far outside of Hogsmeade, a dozen or so werewolves were undergoing a collective transformation.

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