A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

"Unleash potential?" Snape peered at Felix, arms crossed. "What are you up to?"

"I'm a safety officer, can't go out like this, it'd be too embarrassing," Felix replied.

Snape eyed him for a moment, then asked in a low voice, "I won't stumble upon a wanted poster of you next time I visit Diagon Alley for potion supplies, will I?"

Felix rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Can't say for sure... Don't glare at me, alright? I'm kidding. Truth is, I got carried away with magical studies," he earnestly explained.

Snape didn't buy it at all. The next moment, arcane symbols appeared on Felix's face, leaving Snape astounded.

"What kind of potion effect are you after?"

"The best, of course. Something that'll let me pick a fight after a sip." Felix grinned. "Considering I'm your student, how about a 50% discount?"

Snape frowned. "The side effects of such a potion are severe."

"I can handle it," Felix said seriously. "Severus, I really need it."

"Hold on!" Snape waved his hand dramatically, looking stern.

"Thanks, Professor." Felix grinned and waved back as he walked away.

...

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Mr. Granger exclaimed loudly, watching his daughter poking her head into the room with a guilty look.

"Oh, Dad..." Hermione entered from outside, while the other champions and their families inside the room observed the scene with interest. She moved closer, seeking help from Mrs. Granger.

Mrs. Granger waved her hand, looking amused. "I'm waiting for your explanation too."

"Um, how about... I take you around the campus?" Hermione suggested softly. "It's your first time here, you must be curious. I've made some arrangements, you'll surely like..."

"Your 'arrangements' involve leaving your parents hanging for most of the day?" Mr. Granger interrupted.

"I have an exam," Hermione defended herself.

Mr. Granger looked visibly upset, while Mrs. Granger teased her, "How come I heard that champions don't have to sit exams? It was your friend Harry who mentioned it. You're not trying to avoid us, are you?"

Hermione was left speechless.

After spending a good while, Hermione managed to appease her parents. They toured the castle, strolled around the Black Lake, and bumped into Harry and Sirius. Sirius tried hard to engage the Grangers in conversation about Quidditch, dueling, and adventures, but they couldn't find common ground.

When Sirius vividly described how he tackled a giant creature, instead of admiration and detailed questions, he was met with blank stares and wariness.

Right before the mood hit rock bottom, Sirius finally found a common topic.

"Don't worry, it's safe. They're a top contender! And they have a safety officer... Felix Harp, you know him too? Met at the Leaky Cauldron? Brilliant! I'm quite close with him..."

Harry felt odd; Hermione had been glaring at him while the adults conversed.

He leaned in quietly. "What's wrong?"

Hermione turned away, refusing to talk to him.

...

"Knocked out three Unspeakables? So, does that mean the target was actually the Department of Mysteries?" Fudge inquired from behind his office desk.

"That's right. He stole all the hourglasses; the energy within the crystal casings was reduced by half..." Auro explained, the three previously knocked-out Unspeakables standing silently behind him, not uttering a word.

Fudge twirled his quill for a while before looking up.

"What do you think his aim was?" He glanced at the three Unspeakables. "Time travel? Altering history?"

"Minister, rest assured, he can't do anything," Croft said eagerly.

"Why?" Fudge stopped twirling his quill. "He took so many hourglasses... just hourglasses?"

"That's right!" Croft was pleased that Fudge understood. "He only had hourglasses, no intact time-turner."

"What if he finds a damaged time-turner outside and fixes it—"

"Impossible! No one can do that! Every decommissioned time-turner undergoes multiple confirmations by Unspeakables, impossible to repair. We've been trying for centuries without success, leading to a decrease in usable time-turners... an outsider wouldn't manage it."

Fudge looked at him skeptically.

"It's true," Croft grew more confident; this was his field. "Plus, the stolen hourglasses had very low energy. I assume he realized that and risked staying the entire night to recharge—"

"So?" Fudge impatiently asked.

"Of course, he failed." Croft shrugged. "No one can master that technique overnight. Hence, the energy naturally dissipated..."

"But if the hourglasses were useless, why take them all?" Fudge stared with cow-like eyes.

"Minister, understanding a criminal's mind isn't my expertise. I can only make judgments based on my profession," Croft shrugged. "The only issue is the security system at the Department of Mysteries needs an upgrade."

"Thank you, Croft," Fudge interrupted him. "I'll consider it, but you should understand the Ministry's tight on funds now. If there's new funding, I'll prioritize your department."

Silence engulfed the office.

After a while, Fudge hesitantly asked, "Did any of you see the person's face?"

Broderick Bode and Saul Croker shook their heads, both witnessing Felix after he'd imbibed the potion. Observing Fudge's strange expression, they were wary, fearing he might suddenly brandish his wand at them.

"You, however, should've seen something. By then, the potion's effects had certainly worn off," Fudge inquired solemnly.

The third silent person looked embarrassed as they spoke, "My attention was diverted. That person used a despicable trap..."

Fudge lowered his head to scrutinize their testimony, "A fireball plummeting from the sky, burning debris? Yes, indeed, quite despicable."

"..." The silent one bowed their head, saying nothing.

Continuing to peruse the report, Fudge muttered, "Ambushed while looking down, saw only a pair of feet... just feet?" He raised his head, "Do you remember what those feet looked like? Any distinguishing features?"

The silent one shook their head, "Sorry, Minister, I can't recall."

"I don't think so," Fudge smirked slightly, "At least a vague outline, right? Like whether the steps were light, belonging to a young person?"

In the evening, young wizards dined exuberantly in the Great Hall, awaiting the start of the third task.

"Fudge, you've brought quite a few people today," Dumbledore said gently.

"I believe it's necessary. The Ministry has just experienced an attack," Fudge murmured, "I must be cautious."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore murmured back, a regretful expression on his face.

"Oh, by the way," Fudge scanned the surroundings, "where's Professor Snape?"

"Perhaps held up with something?" Dumbledore chuckled softly.

Glancing around, seeing everyone eating, Fudge wiped his forehead and, after a moment of hesitation, finally resolved, "Dumbledore, I need your help. According to Auror investigations, that lone traveler is frightfully powerful, perhaps even comparable to the unmentionable one!"

Dumbledore wore a perfectly puzzled expression.

"Dumbledore, I know we have some disagreements—"

"Not disagreements," Dumbledore interjected.

"You—what?" Fudge looked at him, bewildered.

"That's not a disagreement, Fudge," Dumbledore patiently explained, "Your hesitation will cost us a lot of time—"

"Enough! Dumbledore," Fudge snapped, "That is a disagreement. I've taken a step back, sent an Auror team to explore the Albanian forest. We'll have results soon. But what I want to discuss now is something else!"

He slammed the table, making the cutlery jump around.

Several other school heads at nearby tables looked over, puzzled. Fudge quickly gestured an apology. When others turned away, he leaned in again, saying, "Dumbledore, I'm seeking your help regarding dealing with a dangerous criminal. He recklessly infiltrated the Department of Mysteries, stole the Time-Turner hourglass and stored decades of energy. It's an incredibly sinister act!"

Dumbledore remained calm, "Forgive me for saying, Fudge, but you don't seem the least bit anxious."

"I am, of course! What if he intends to alter history? What if, on the day the Order loses power, he reminds them?" Fudge's temper flared uncontrollably, "You should understand the severe consequences!"

Dumbledore's expression turned serious.

"That's it," Fudge wiped his sweat, continuing, "So, I'm seeking your assistance. Our goals align. I promise, once the investigative team brings back concrete evidence, I'll issue a public warning."

"Do you have any leads?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Of course, he spent a night at the Ministry, attempting to steal energy... Exhausted, and wounded by an Auror. Unfortunately, we couldn't find his blood at the scene... Regardless, such injuries can't heal quickly. Hence, my curiosity about Professor Snape. I'm not suspecting him, just cooperating with the investigation—"

Dumbledore's expression grew more serious, and Fudge felt his plan had succeeded, elatedly continuing. At that moment, someone entered the hall.

Fudge glared at the person. Felix appeared flushed, vibrant, showing no signs of injury. He'd even changed into formal wear, taking a seat not far from them.

Fudge's face turned crimson.

"It seems Felix isn't the person you were looking for. He looks excellent. This outfit reminds me of the ball six months ago. If there were music playing now, I'd have no doubt he'd steal the show..." Dumbledore interlaced his fingers, looking at Fudge's face with keen interest.

"Perhaps I jumped to conclusions, Dumbledore," Fudge panted, his eyes fixed on Felix, unwillingly adding, "I need to confirm this again."

"My office is always open to you, Fudge, but next time, bring evidence," Dumbledore said, his gaze also on Felix—unlike Fudge, his deep blue eyes were profoundly inscrutable.

"Time..." he murmured softly.

As the enchanted ceiling shifted from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose by the table, and the room quieted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes, I'll ask you to join me at the competition grounds for the final task. Now, champions, please leave with Mr. Bagman."

>

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