A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Scrimgeour stood not far from the magical fountain, his yellow eyes fixed on the empty fireplace.

The entire hall was eerily quiet. Every time a new Ministry employee emerged from the fireplace, they were met with the intense gaze of hundreds. Arthur Weasley looked around; the Ministry seemed to have weathered a massive battle—chaos littered the ground, and the office resembled a prowling old lion, ready to pounce at any moment.

He edged away from the fireplace, joining a wizard at the scene. In a hushed tone, he asked, "What's going on, Arnold?"

The wizard wiped his brow. "Terrifying, Arthur. If you'd arrived just two minutes earlier, you might've collided with that person..."

"You mean there's only one enemy? And they escaped?" Mr. Weasley asked, surprised.

"Yeah, let me tell you..."

Abrasive clinks echoed as the elevator gates parted, and a throng spilled out.

Leading the charge was Amelia Bones, wand held high, striding purposefully. Surveying the scene, her furrowed brows demanded attention. "Healers, take the injured to the infirmary for treatment!"

"Surveillance team, collaborate with Aurors for the investigation."

"Kingsley, Dawlish!"

The two Aurors marched forth, chests puffed out.

"Track the target with your team," she paused, "observe first, refrain from engaging."

"Understood!"

"Minor Occurrences Reversal Unit, and all members of the Magical Law Enforcement Office!"

Almost half the hall stood at attention, awaiting orders.

"Clean up debris and clutter. Witnesses, step forward to register clues. Others, resume your duties." It wasn't until the crowd began moving that she turned to Scrimgeour. "Rufus, any findings?"

Scrimgeour's eyes darted, his voice low. "I saw his face."

A surprised expression crossed Ms. Bones' face. "Who?"

"He's disguised, I'm not certain. Currently, no evidence—" Scrimgeour halted mid-sentence.

Ms. Bones shot him a stern look. "Come with me, Rufus."

...

"I must lend a hand too. Goodbye, Arnold," Mr. Weasley hurried away, also a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Office.

"Goodbye, Arthur," the wizard muttered. "Lovely day, I thought a war had erupted!"

"Be cautious in your words, Piskood," a cold voice spoke from behind. Arnold Peasegood turned, startled. "Axley?"

"It's me," Axley said. "From your words, it seems you're anticipating a war?"

The wizard flushed, vehemently denying, "Nonsense!"

Axley smirked coolly, "Hope you remain as resolute when the time comes." Without a backward glance, he walked toward the fireplace embedded in the wall.

"Wait, where are you off to?" the wizard called.

"Ordered to be stationed at Hogwarts," he said without looking back. "Came to collect something this morning, didn't expect such a show."

...

Ms. Bones and Scrimgeour arrived at the circular pond near the magical fountain, the rushing waters masking their conversation. She asked in a hushed tone, "You've faced him before; you should have an opinion, right?"

Scrimgeour didn't name names. Leaning on his cane, he stared at the central statue, a set of gold statues larger than life. The tallest depicted a noble wizard, wand raised high. Around him stood a beautiful witch, a centaur, a fairy, and a house elf.

The centaur, fairy, and house elf gazed adoringly at the two wizards.

"He not only disguised his face but his abilities too," Scrimgeour focused on the house elf statue, water trickling from its ears. "Initially, he displayed power similar to retired Alastor's, battle-hardened, excellent judgment. He seemed reluctant to expose himself, using only conventional magic..."

He continued, "But his final strike was astonishing, a magic I couldn't recognize."

Ms. Bones listened intently, lost in thought. Gazing at the fountain, she said slowly, "Shattering a thousand glass pieces with just one strike... Do you believe that was his usual power or an extraordinary display?"

Scrimgeour hesitated, "I believe it was the former. He's adept at disguises."

Ms. Bones looked at him gravely. "According to your description, the pool of potential suspects is limited. I only know of two, perhaps three. Few abroad would meet these criteria, and they're unlikely to suddenly infiltrate the British Ministry... I need evidence!"

Just then, a burly Auror approached with a guard.

"Ms. Bones, Mr. Scrimgeour, Eric has an important report!"

Both turned to Eric Munch, who seemed nervous. "I, uh, I'm not sure if..."

"It's alright, we'll make the right judgment," Ms. Bones reassured him.

"Well, last night, during my shift—I saw someone, it struck me as odd, but I didn't think much at the time—"

"Who did you see?" Scrimgeour asked, his voice grave.

"Yes, um..." Eric stammered, his gaze past them to a stout man approaching, eyes wide. "Minister Fudge!"

...

"Sir, you've arrived at your destination," the driver said politely.

"Thank you." Felix looked weary, paid, and stepped out of the taxi. He retrieved a ring from his pocket, and with two flickers of light, a black wand and a brown amulet appeared in his hand.

Putting away the spare wand, he sat on a bench under a hanging willow tree. A young mother strolled by with a baby in a pram. The infant, chubby hands raised, spotted Felix on the bench and curiously eyed him.

Felix winked at the baby, then retrieved a vial of potion, swallowing it.

Standing up, he approached a house, donned the amulet, tapped it lightly twice, and his body gradually faded in color. Steeling himself, Felix said, "Just one more step, you can do this, Felix... Just need to redirect the energy, won't take much effort."

...

"Is this really happening?" Voldemort asked softly, a sardonic smile on his lips. "The Ministry has lost its way this time."

"Master, do you need me to leak this out?" Yaxley lowered his head, kneeling on the ground. His elaborate robes, embroidered with golden threads, trailed along the floor.

"Not at the moment," Voldemort lazily remarked. "You just need to subtly guide Fudge's suspicions towards our young ones..."

"Why?" Yaxley inquired, trembling the next moment. "I-I apologize, Master, I'm not questioning you—"

Voldemort paced before him, Yaxley lowering his head further, only catching a glimpse of pale feet until they halted in front of him. "M-Master?"

"I can answer that," Voldemort murmured. "Though you've never actively sought me out these years, Yaxley... slipping into the enemy's ranks after my downfall, pretending to be innocent, yet still enjoying luxury. But upon seeing me, you immediately returned to my fold. So, I am willing to forgive you."

"M-Master..."

"I have a plan," Voldemort whispered. "That young one left a deep impression on me. Just as I was beginning to regain some power, he stormed in, nearly ruining everything. At that moment, I realized, I cannot let him grow..."

"Master, with your power, killing him would be effortless."

"Oh? Is it really so? If you truly believed that, why serve the enemy for all these years?"

Yaxley fell silent.

"I've done nothing during this time—no gathering of Death Eaters, no rallying of old allies. Before you, I had only one loyal servant. Think, why would the great Dark Lord hide away like a rat?"

"I told that young one, even if he stands with Dumbledore, a slight defiance of Dumbledore's ideas would rupture their relationship... I look forward to that happening, and of course, if the opportunity arises, I wouldn't mind killing him myself."

"Yaxley, my friend," Voldemort lowered his head, fixing his gaze on Yaxley. "Do what you ought to do. I will await our guest..."

---

In the Ministry's hall, Fudge exclaimed incredulously, "Someone's impersonating me?" He glanced around swiftly, then lowered his voice, "This can't be, I've never handed my hair over to anyone!"

"Could be an advanced human transfiguration skill," Madam Bones suggested.

"Must be," Fudge immediately agreed, his hand fidgeting with the button on his coat. His gaze shifted between Bones, Scrimgeour, Gravely, and the guards. "Until we ascertain the truth, keep this under wraps. Understand?"

"So..." He extended his stubby finger, gesturing aimlessly in the air. "Can anyone tell me the purpose of that person breaking into the Ministry?"

"Not clear yet," Scrimgeour responded.

"Not clear?" Fudge repeated, glaring at him. "Then what have you been doing for so long?"

"Waiting for updates, Minister," Scrimgeour replied stiffly. "There are two Auror squads outside, investigating the criminal's whereabouts." He gestured to the surroundings. "Others are examining the scene."

"Any witnesses?" Fudge inquired.

Bones, Scrimgeour, and the Aurors turned their attention to the guard on duty that night, Eric Munch. Annoyed, Fudge said, "I want witnesses besides him! He proves nothing."

"Not at the moment, Fudge. We need time to gather evidence," Madam Bones said gently.

"Time, time. If those reporters get wind of this, they'll swarm like flies," Fudge muttered in disgust, his eyes glinting oddly. Under his breath, almost inaudibly, he mused, "No witnesses?"

He hurried away, adding, "I'll be at Hogwarts this afternoon as a judge. I hope you'll have some good news by then."

---

Grimmauld Place.

"Young man, you look terribly pale. You ought to see a doctor," a kind-eyed elderly woman observed Felix with concern.

"Thank you, I'll be fine," Felix grumbled.

"Oh, your face is paler than my hair," the old lady said seriously, studying him. "Honestly, this abnormal grayish tone I've only seen in the dead... Oh! I'm sorry, that was unintentional."

"It's alright, ma'am," Felix patiently replied. "I've just been burning the midnight oil. A good sleep will fix it."

After gently dismissing the concerned lady, Felix walked towards the space between numbers 11 and 13. His mind was foggy, but he felt a sense of familiarity with the person he had just encountered. Had he given her a enchanted card before?

He shook his head, fighting off drowsiness. He had recharged the converter on Hermione earlier at the cost of a part of an hourglass he had obtained from the Ministry, now reduced to shards.

And now, he could barely perform any magic himself. Using what little reason he had, he surmised that the Aurors were probably scouring London for him. Diagon Alley was definitely out of bounds. Hence, he had employed Muggle means to make his way here.

Felix struggled to squeeze through a thin wall of air, vanishing from the real world.

"The defensive magic hasn't changed yet? Excellent, little Sirius," Felix whispered, and the next moment, Number 12 Grimmauld Place materialized before him.

"Bang!"

A grotesque, elderly house-elf suddenly appeared at the doorstep. Kreacher, with a hoarse voice, said, "Welcome, friend of the Master, powerful Mr. Felix Harp, the Master isn't home..."

"I know," Felix said. "I just wanted to use his fireplace."

Kreacher deeply bowed, "The Master said to fulfill your requests as much as possible. And, I've read Master Regulus's biography. It's written so well... His honor remains untarnished..."

"Good for you."

---

Felix smoothly returned to his office, but a shadow pounced on him. He instinctively dodged, but Valen clutched onto his clothes.

"Chirp!"

It eyed him disapprovingly.

"Oh, Valen, let me catch my breath..." Felix patted his chest, and Valen jumped down from his embrace, hands on its hips, fingers pointing accusingly at Felix, reprimanding him incessantly.

"You worried me," Felix grinned. "But I need your help, get Sylvester for me, just keep it low-key."

Valen looked puzzled.

"Off you go."

After a while...

"What have you done now?" Snape looked at him disdainfully.

"Played a thief, got caught by the Master, barely escaped," Felix slumped on the couch lazily. His appearance was quite odd; he wore pajamas but topped with a hat.

Snape looked at him strangely, unable to speak for a moment. After a while, he mockingly retorted, "I must hear this, whatever can make you look this disheveled, I can't fathom who the victim could be."

"Someone from a wealthy family," Felix casually diverted the topic. "Sylvester, do you have that potion that enhances potential?"

>

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