A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 532: The Only Irrelevant Truth - (1)

Felix folded the newspaper. "Chirp!" Valen the Niffler exclaimed.

"I haven't finished reading it yet!"

"Well, honestly, your reading pace should have improved. Where are you now?" Felix inquired.

Valen pointed at a paragraph in the newspaper with a fork.

"Snake Wand?" mumbled Felix. "I'll tell you a Chamber of Secrets story another day." He continued sipping his cereal, unperturbed by the curious glances around the hall. After calmly finishing breakfast, he appeared in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

There were already visitors.

A short, plump, balding man squeezed his hefty frame into an armchair. His chubby hand grabbed a frosted pineapple chunk from a nearby box, his mouth continuously chewing, the dense silver beard sticking with bits of frosting.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I have something to report," Felix calmly observed the man, dressed in a brownish-purple velvet coat, its shiny copper buttons groaning under his motions.

Oddly enough, he could picture the scene of a hippo eating, far plumper than the wizard before him.

Slughorn absentmindedly glanced at Felix, his mouth stopping in its movement. "It's him, isn't it, Albus?" he asked Dumbledore, looking thin compared to him.

"Felix Harp," Felix politely introduced himself. "If you're asking for my name."

"Ah, of course! Who else could leave such an impression?" the wizard agilely jumped from the chair, his clean hand diving into his jacket pocket, retrieving a soft purple velvet handkerchief, meticulously wiping his fingers.

"I've been wanting to meet you," he said, extending his pudgy hand to Felix, "the illustrious Felix Harp, pride of Slytherin."

"You're too kind," Felix replied, shaking his hand, feeling a stickiness that was purely psychological. He cautiously asked, "Mr. Slughorn?"

The wizard beamed, his protruding belly rhythmically moving. "Please, have a seat..." Slughorn gestured for him to sit closer, sounding like a hospitable host. Dumbledore smirked, seemingly amused. Valen hopped off Felix's shoulder, tugging at Dumbledore's trousers, pointing with its pink paw at Fawkes perched on a golden stand, resting.

"Chirp?"

Dumbledore magically produced a candy for it, winking at Valen. "Sharing is the key to friendship."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"I agree with you, Dumbledore," Slughorn exclaimed loudly. Seated beside Felix, he settled back into his chair, readjusting to the most comfortable angle. After a while, he sighed contentedly, "Care for a piece, Felix?" He seemed remarkably enthusiastic.

"No, thank you. I've developed a recent aversion to sweets," Felix declined.

"I've had such phases," Slughorn chuckled, picking up another pastry. "A time when I favored a particular sweet, gorged on it until I couldn't stand it anymore... that was in my younger days. Now, I prefer a bit of everything."

"Very wise," Felix replied tersely, thinking it would have been better without the sweet example. He watched Valen teasingly sway on the table, engaging in a standoff with Fawkes perched on the golden stand, observing each other.

Dumbledore and Slughorn were equally intrigued by the scene.

"Some folks don't fancy a beetle heap, but it has its own flavor," Dumbledore remarked. As he spoke, Fawkes swiftly swooped down from its perch, snatching the beetle-shaped candy from Valen's hand, swallowing it with a crisp sound.

All three looked satisfied.

"Oh, I'll fetch what you asked for," Dumbledore suddenly addressed Slughorn, ascending the spiral staircase.

As his figure vanished upstairs, Felix felt Slughorn's eyes discreetly studying him.

"You're more approachable than I imagined," he said after a few seconds. "I mean, many have mentioned you in letters, and it's hard to believe they have such diverse opinions about you."

"Not surprising," Felix replied.

"Oh, uh, you're right. Everyone's got their stance. I've heard some rumors, like about your background... though personally, I couldn't care less—truthfully!" Slughorn said. He then delved into an extensive narrative about his vast network accumulated over the years, claiming everyone was "strategically positioned." Among them were several wizards from Muggle families, showing his lack of prejudice towards bloodline.

Felix detected a hobby of "collecting" from his enthusiastic demeanor. So, he suggested Slughorn write a memoir, detailing all the brilliant students he'd taught. Slughorn, pleased, felt understood.

"I noticed this when I was still the Slytherin head; Muggle-born wizards always bring novel ideas to me, incredible... of course, I mean the exceptional ones. From this perspective, their existence is necessary, injecting fresh blood into the old-fashioned magical world... a shame I didn't retire a couple of years later," he looked at Felix, seemingly regretting missing out on a treasure.

"Do you still keep in touch with those students?" Felix inquired, knowing the secluded location Slughorn lived in from his summer conversations.

"Ah, I had plans to hide away, evade the limelight. You see, things outside are getting messy quickly. I can't get along with those dangerous fellows, but they'll surely find me... I have this hunch," Slughorn said. "Just then, Dumbledore appeared."

He suddenly seemed agitated. "He wanted something from me, oh, I can't specify what exactly—" he wiggled his finger covered in frosting. "He worked with me, knows how I am. He even brought a little lad as a mediator!"

Felix smiled knowingly; he knew who that person was, Harry.

"Let me privately tell you, he's despicable in his ways," Slughorn leaned in, sounding confiding, "but cunning. He struck where it hurts me the most. I'm old, softened by age, especially when facing the child of my favorite student..." He sighed deeply, his walrus mustache twitching amusingly. "By the way, she was Muggle-born too," he picked up another pastry.

"Lily was a genius, insightful, skilled, and knew how to reciprocate... ever since she knew my birthday, she'd send me a thoughtful gift every year without fail, even after she graduated. When I read about her death in the newspaper, I knew there wouldn't be anyone else to give me warm knee caps again... alas, good people don't live long," he murmured, wiping his nose with the handkerchief.

Felix wasn't sure how to respond or if he should, but Slughorn smoothly transitioned the topic.

"You don't know how Dumbledore gets people to talk, do you? He specifically brought wine on my birthday, claiming it was to celebrate, but I could see through his intentions! But I couldn't refuse a sumptuous dinner, even if it had ulterior motives... most infuriatingly, once he used me, he distanced himself. I asked him to introduce me to the two youngest recipients of the Order of Merlin, but he kept saying I wasn't a school teacher, couldn't disturb them... he actually suggested I write a letter!"

Slughorn ranted further, sharing his unease about the increasing Darkness, expressing his fear of a possible war.

Felix saw his opportunity. "You could make a difference," he calmly suggested.

The wizard stopped mid-sentence, blinking at him. "A difference, you say?"

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