A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 247: Magical Outburst

"What do you want in the end? I've told you, every treatment comes with risks!" said the man's voice.

"But you assured me so solemnly! What did you say at that time? Everything was fine — yet now Frank and Alice have been in a coma for two weeks, and there's coughing up of blood." Grandma's voice replied.

"What can I do? Think from my perspective. Those experts in the newspapers are constantly targeting me. I have to get hold of the experimental data urgently—"

"Experimental data? Those are two lives! They are my son and daughter-in-law, and the parents of little Neville! Felix Harp, you are Neville's teacher!"

Neville's heart felt like it had been soaked in cold water, devoid of warmth, and his stomach churned relentlessly. His fists clenched involuntarily.

The sinister man said, "I too wish for everything to go smoothly, but accidents are unavoidable. Think about it, they were just moving bodies, now they're lifeless bodies, not much of a difference, is there?"

Neville's eyes reddened, his teeth ground together, how dare he speak of his parents like that... how dare he!

But then his grandmother's voice, filled with sorrow, came through, "I'm begging you, just confirm it again. You caused all of this, only you know the truth..."

The malicious man responded, "I'm sorry, precisely because I know the truth, I don't want to waste time."

Grandmother's voice turned firm, "I was wrong to ask you, I will expose your actions, reveal what you've done—"

The man chuckled, "Madam, let me remind you, your son and daughter-in-law were already sentenced by the Ministry. I just had the notion to try something out. If it succeeds, many will be grateful to me."

"Is that so?" Grandma's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You care about reputation, that's your weakness, but soon the public will see through your fa?ade, and you will lose everything."

The man's voice became hesitant, "Speaking that way... you're not entirely wrong. Reputation is like fine wine, and it's also an alluring poison. I'm always drawn to its fragrance. So, how should I deal with you?"

"Obliviate? Too simple. I've come up with a better idea. Honestly, your persistent meddling over this long period has thoroughly annoyed me. There are some spells I've been wanting to try... Sectumsempra!"

"No, no..." Neville widened his eyes, his knuckles went white, his face filled with fear. He heard the thud as his grandmother fell to the ground and her pained groans, "Ah... ah..."

"No!"

Rage shattered his rationality, and the door to the room exploded open.

He saw two figures in the ward, surprise etched across the man's face. The hand holding the wand froze midway, and an elderly woman lay on the ground, her pointed hat lifeless by her side.

"Grandma!" Neville rushed over, attempting to lift his grandmother's head, but she winced in pain. He stood there, lost, torn between tending to her and confronting the source of all this. The man, his wand still aimed, said urgently, "Stop! Professor."

"Stop?" The man's face remained shrouded in shadow, obscuring his expression. "Why?"

Neville looked at him in disbelief, engulfed by an immense absurdity that rendered reality surreal, as if trapped in a dream. "What are you saying? You, you're a professor... Why would you use that curse?"

"The Cruciatus Curse?" the man's voice said, causing Neville to tremble. The man chuckled softly, "Or perhaps the Imperius Curse? Or... the other two Unforgivable Curses?"

He continued in a calm manner, almost as if conducting a lesson, "Neville, my association with the Unforgivable Curses goes back a long way. During my schooling, I mastered these three spells — the Cruciatus Curse, the Dementor's Kiss, and the Killing Curse."

"I always wanted to test them on someone, but my conscience was too soft. Now, in hindsight, what curse can't end a life? Clear water is as deadly as a spring."

Neville trembled as he stared at him, as if for the first time truly seeing the man's face.

"Don't look at me like that. Learn to respect your professor, shouldn't you?" the man said.

"You're not my professor!" Neville shouted, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at him, but the next moment, his wand was disarmed.

"The Silencing Disarmament Curse, the one I taught you, Neville. Maybe you should try being angrier?" the man suggested.

Instantly, Neville pulled out a second wand from behind — he always carried two wands, his father's and his own. Fueled by anger, he cast a nonverbal Stunning Spell, but it was blocked by a wave of the man's hand. "Too weak, Neville. You're not angry enough—"

A thin layer of magical shield flew towards Neville, sending him crashing back.

Neville got up from the ground, his gaze unwavering and defiant.

"I dislike your gaze... thus, Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra!"

Grandma let out a cry of pain. Neville's eyes widened in terror as he positioned himself in front of her, the expected agony not materializing. He had no time to discern; he had to do something, stall for time. Yes, stall for time!

He wanted to witness this man being apprehended, just like those Death Eaters.

Neville strained his mind. He had never thought so fast before. "I believed in you so much... I saw you as a role model..."

He recited without hesitation, the freshest story in his mind, a tale derived from this man himself —

"Narle was a clumsy man. This clumsiness was something others told him, and over time, he came to believe it himself.

Narle enjoyed crafting clay dolls. He had a natural sensitivity to the distinct properties of different kinds of clay. He relished watching as black, red, brown, white, and gray clay transformed in his hands, gradually taking shape, forming delicate and charming figures.

This enjoyment brought him solace amid moments of sadness.

His parents were busy, rarely spending time with him. Even during the most significant event, Christmas, they only managed a fleeting encounter. His biggest wish was for them to spend more time with him."

Neville continued to recite, his gaze fixed on the now-lowered wand on the other side. Beside him, he heard his grandmother's low voice, "That's enough, Mr. Harp, that's enough..."

Neville stared blankly as his grandmother got up from the ground, and the professor emerged from the shadows.

Several minutes later —

Neville sat in silence, upset. Professor Longbottom was trying to console him while Felix Harp looked at him awkwardly. "Neville—"

Neville turned his face away, not looking at him, gripping his robe tightly.

"Why did you deceive me?" he said, anger evident in his voice.

"It was part of the plan," Professor Longbottom said, "for—"

"Allow me to explain, Professor Longbottom," Felix interjected, looking at Neville. "This originated from a ludicrous idea I had during my schooling. I experienced several magical outbursts, which brought significant benefits. I contemplated whether it was possible to induce a magical outburst intentionally..."

"But I had never seen an instance of this in anyone else until a few months ago, in Diagon Alley, where I encountered Potter."

"Harry?" Neville asked abruptly.

"Exactly, he underwent a very painful experience at that time, which triggered a magical outburst. I persuaded him to test with me... until I discovered you again. I deduced that your magical activity during childhood was relatively low, which means — you were inherently inert, leading to great difficulty in learning magic..."

"Same goes for you, doesn't it?" Neville said harshly.

"Same goes for what?" Felix looked at him.

"What you were talking about, the magical outburst." Neville spoke, his tone chillingly composed. "It seems it requires a substantial stimulus. You were trying to enrage me repeatedly. So I ask you, were you in a similar situation?"

Felix gazed calmly at him. "You're right, I was."

Neville stood up with a stern expression. "So, Auntie Mellum's words were also part of your arrangement? It was all an act?"

"No, Neville—" Mrs. Longbottom began.

Neville stubbornly fixed his eyes on Felix. "I want you to tell me yourself."

"I didn't make that arrangement, but—" Felix started to explain.

"Let me clarify, Mrs. Longbottom." Felix interjected. "I was present when they were discussing it."

Suddenly, Neville said, "I'm going back to my ward. I need some time alone." He picked up his bag from the floor, pushed the door open, and walked out of the room.

The room descended into a deathly silence.

After a long while, Felix confessed, "In that moment when he blasted the door open, I thought we had succeeded."

Exhausted, Mrs. Longbottom mumbled, "Perhaps we shouldn't have... from the beginning." She pursed her lips. "I expected too much from him in the past. I wanted that child to be like his father, a proud Auror, but in reality, being ordinary would have been just fine."

"I disagree, ma'am. Dumbledore warned me not to toy with people's hearts," Felix said. "But who can escape the control of their own heart? I don't accept this failure. We were so close to succeeding. If only we had done better—"

Mrs. Longbottom looked at him, hesitating, and said, "Mr. Harp?"

"I didn't believe there was an issue with my approach, from the initial design to—"

Suddenly, Felix stopped. His eyes bulged as he turned to the air to his side, incredulously. Then, he sprinted out of the room, rounded a corner, and fixed his gaze on a ward at the far end of the corridor.

Felix tapped his own forehead, and under the monochrome vision, a potent and gentle surge of magic emanated from within him. The pure white light was free of impurities, continually challenging his preconceptions.

"This is — what's happening?" Mrs. Longbottom followed after him, her voice anxious.

Felix didn't answer. Step by step, he approached the ward where the Longbottoms were. He flung open the door and saw Neville, sobbing in the embrace of a woman. A kind-hearted man held the woman and Neville. They looked tired, still in their hospital gowns, but their eyes overflowed with love.

Various scattered trinkets in the room floated in the air, emitting a faint buzzing sound. Several patients in adjacent beds basked in a warm light, the perfect punctuation to answer Felix's questions.

"A magical outburst..." he said, each word deliberate.

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