A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 552: The First Battle

As the dinner neared its end and the students had their fill, the hall buzzed with conversation.

More and more noticed the absence of Headmaster Dumbledore, their eyes darting towards the teachers' table, speculation spreading, an uneasy restlessness creeping through the air.

Felix silently observed the scene, Professor Flitwick's sharp voice reaching his ears from two seats away.

"Mafalda, is there something keeping Headmaster Dumbledore busy?"

"I'm not sure," Professor McGonagall tightened her lips, hands wringing together in visible conflict. She gazed at the students murmuring in the hall, then suddenly stood up.

"Students—"

Her voice carried, and gradually, the hall quieted down, McGonagall cleared her throat, about to speak, when there was a commotion near the entrance.

McGonagall relaxed as Dumbledore appeared.

He stood at the entrance, silhouetted against the dimly lit foyer, his silver hair and beard gleaming under the glow of pumpkin lanterns.

The tension in the air dissipated instantly.

Dumbledore smiled, traversing the spaces between tables with large strides, conversations sparked up again, but this time the atmosphere was light and jovial. Dumbledore stood on his starry chair, and Harry keenly noticed he was wearing the white gloves again and had stowed away the black gemstone ring.

"His beard's back to its color," Hermione whispered.

Harry, however, focused solely on Dumbledore's prominent purple robe and the white gloves, wondering about the hand concealed within. He hardly paid attention to the beard's change. "Sorry, what did you say?" he asked absently.

"Dumbledore's beard was different during the battle," Hermione murmured, stretching her neck to observe, "but now it's back."

"Really?" Ron poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, patting his filled stomach contentedly.

"I saw it too," Neville said quietly. "During the battle, it turned darker, a sort of iron-gray, resembling, well, the bartender at the Hog's Head!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione redirected their attention to Neville, who nodded earnestly.

"Probably some kind of enchantment," Ron said uneasily.

"I wish that were true," Hermione said, "but I haven't read about it in any book... Unless the Headmaster used an advanced human transfiguration."

"Definitely," Ron affirmed.

"But why would Headmaster Dumbledore do that?" Harry asked, puzzled. One important lesson he learned from the Dueling Club was to avoid unnecessary actions during a fight. He glanced back at the teachers' table.

Dumbledore didn't sit directly. He stood before his chair, surveying the students in the hall. The room fell silent once again as everyone eagerly watched him.

"Ah, my apologies. There have been too many mentions of my name in the newspapers lately. I decided to cut out those parts referencing me," Dumbledore blinked, "Owls from around the world have flooded my office, and these little fellows have a penchant for anything shiny. I had to clear the silverware from my desk... It was only after sorting all that out that I realized the dinner had already begun."

"I hope you understand, time is both the most precious and the most easily overlooked thing for an old man. This was especially evident to me when I was playing Ten-Pillar Roll Game..."

He sat down without partaking in any food, instead smiling around the hall. A while later, as the last round of desserts vanished from the tables, the feast came to an end. ŗάΝȪᛒЁŚ

Students slowly rose. Their movements sluggish, lazily making their way towards the exit, resembling a group of sloths foraging for food. The professors also stood up.

"Severus," Dumbledore politely said, "could you stay for a moment? I have something to discuss with you."

The two departed.

Once most others had left, Hagrid retrieved his wooden crate from under the table, exchanged greetings with Felix and Valen the Niffler, and swiftly left.

"Everyone's acting strange," Valen grumbled.

"Are you all right?" Felix asked.

"Fine," Valen replied vaguely. "Just detention... Not that it bothers me, used to it."

A blurry, distant voice floated from behind them.

"If it were me, I couldn't bear it. To be kept for observation at school—it's too humiliating."

Valen stared at Professor Trelawney. "Excuse me? I don't think I've met you. Are you a professor here?"

Trelawney seemed greatly offended, throwing her shawl over her shoulder and stomping away.

"She's Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor. You've seen her several times..." Felix's tone was enigmatic; in fact, he felt peculiar about this professor—knowing that two prophecies he knew of had been made by Trelawney.

"I know," Valen replied without hesitation. "I even helped Harry with a Divination assignment, you know, brainstorming ideas. Kids these days seem a bit lacking in imagination..."

Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry slumped in a soft armchair, feeling drowsy, gazing at the room's ceiling. His hand found a rolled-up newspaper between the seat cushions.

He picked it up and saw a picture of Dumbledore grabbing his shoulder, facing the snake-like figure on the ground. Instinctively, he touched his scar.

Valen's eyes sparkled, swiftly completing the remaining exchanges, even getting the boy with the glowing pebble to trade for a card that produced twelve different laughs. Satisfied, Valen left.

Returning to the castle, Valen climbed the stone steps to the castle's entrance. Setting up a shelter, it gazed towards the distant Quidditch pitch, beginning to fret about the distance.

It wanted to watch the Quidditch match but walking there was too tiring. As it pondered, Valen heard a voice keenly, "Astoria, can't you be a bit less taxing..."

"What did I do?" a disgruntled voice replied.

Before Astoria could retort, a Niffler dashed toward her, arms outstretched, blocking them.

"It's you, little one?"

Astoria happily approached, attempting to pat Valen's head, but the Niffler agilely dodged and pointed a stick at her, annoyed.

"Hey, where did you get that wand?" Astoria exclaimed in surprise.

Daphne also examined, "It's different from what was displayed in the newspaper. Could it be a student's?"

Valen shook its head, pulling out a quill, scribbling a crooked word in the air, "Mine." It patted its chest.

"Cut it out. It's yours, but can you use it?" Astoria questioned.

Valen was thrilled, waiting for that question. It gestured challengingly to Astoria.

Astoria looked puzzled.

"Is it challenging me to a duel?" She looked perplexedly at her sister, Daphne, who shrugged.

Turning back, Astoria found Valen continuously nodding, signaling, "Yes, just as you thought." She hesitated for two seconds, then burst into laughter, exchanging knowing looks with her sister.

"Look, Daphne, this is amusing!"

Two seconds later, Astoria, with a serious face, pulled out her wand, saying, "Since you've asked, I can't refuse. Forgot to mention, I won the dueling championship in my first year, the only one ever."

Daphne, embarrassed, covered her face, not wanting to witness her immature sister. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, I'll go easy on you," Astoria waved, but with a sneer in her eyes. "Don't accuse me of bullying; you strike first."

Valen, standing in place, twirled twice and then raised the little stick.

A sudden whirlwind appeared out of nowhere, lifting Astoria into the air, spinning her ten feet high. Helpless, Astoria, with a hint of bewilderment, tried to grab at something but found herself powerless. Passersby chuckled, pointing and whispering, nearly bending over with laughter.

What made it worse was that during this, Valen and Daphne stood together, observing with interest, while Daphne burst into laughter.

After nearly a minute in the air, the whirlwind entangling Astoria gradually settled, leaving her on the ground, dizzy and seeing stars. She couldn't even stand properly. "Valen!" she yelled in frustration, clumsily trying to lunge at Valen but ending up stumbling towards Daphne.

Annoyed, Astoria lifted her head from her sister's embrace, finding Valen's bright eyes staring at her intensely, the little yellow hat and glittering patches shining in the sunlight.

Fifteen minutes later, Valen sat on Daphne's shoulder, joining them to the Quidditch pitch.

Astoria pouted along the way.

"Valen, how did you suddenly learn magic?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Chirp!"

"Was it Professor Snape who helped you?"

Valen shook its head.

"Weird... I noticed a few small gems embedded in your wand. Any secrets?" Daphne caught a hint of mystery.

Valen shuddered, quickly hiding its treasures in its pocket. It acted like nothing happened.

The Quidditch field was packed with people. Due to no matches the previous year, excitement and interest for the first match of the new school year soared. Almost everyone who could come was present; students chattered excitedly despite the chill.

Valen waved goodbye to the Greengrass sisters, sensing the Dark Lord's presence.

Jumping off Daphne's shoulder, Valen retrieved two small bottles from its pocket and handed them to the sisters—a travel fare, if you will.

"Ghostly food? Do I have one too?" Astoria asked in surprise.

Valen nodded happily. After all, you were the first I defeated and a 'dueling champion.' This was the first step for the great Niffler magician Valen to enter the historical stage. It had already planned to write an autobiography after defeating the Dark Lord, detailing this first battle in vivid detail...

As Valen vanished, Daphne extended her hand with a stern face. "Confiscation!" Astoria, sensing trouble, disappeared into the crowd.

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