A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

They hurriedly finished breakfast, rushing off to their Herbology class. It was only then that Harry had a moment to regain his thoughts, interrupted by Hermione. He had to admit she had a point, though just a tiny one... As he crossed the courtyard towards the greenhouse, he pondered. If he were Dumbledore, he too would treat someone destined to oppose Voldemort differently, occasionally revealing secrets but never divulging everything.

"Thanks, Hermione," mumbled Harry.

"What?" Hermione asked grumpily as they took a shortcut through the muddy vegetable patch, half-melted snow making the walk cumbersome, her shoe sinking into the mud.

"I said, thank goodness there's no Snape class today," Harry said loudly.

That statement wasn't sincere, of course. In reality, he had been consciously and unconsciously watching Snape in Potions class recently, trying to discern from his expressions whether he was close to the horcruxes. He even ignored Snape's taunts, resulting in two more zero grades.

The greenhouse was in sight, and Harry saw students standing outside. He quickened his pace, arriving just as the door opened. However, the person who emerged surprised him: it was Snape in black robes, standing side by side with Professor Slughorn. Behind them were Professor Burbage and a smiling Professor Sprout.

He recalled a snippet he'd read in The Quibbler: Professor Burbage had applied to build a new greenhouse, and for the past few days, she had been seeking student volunteers.

"Pomona, didn't expect you to be so familiar with the concept of self-pollination," Professor Burbage said eagerly.

"It's not a novel concept," Professor Sprout's tone suddenly turned dry.

"Oh, I thought only Muggles—" Professor Burbage lowered her voice, apologizing, while Felix and Snape had already walked ahead.

"Voldemort is gathering strength. Any plans?" Felix asked cheerfully as they walked across the lawn, the gentle sunlight casting a soothing glow on them.

"I don't think it's the final showdown this time, so it's unlikely he and I will come face to face, which will alleviate a lot of awkwardness," Snape said slowly. "As for my plans—pretend to be hindered by circumstances."

"Hindered? So, you're planning to go undercover?" Felix furrowed his brow. "Have you figured out an excuse?"

"Excuses can always be found," Snape said softly. "But I have to provide some convenience for those two fools. It'll save trouble in the aftermath—if they fail again, the blame won't fall on me. Let them bear the Dark Lord's wrath; that's his everlasting hope."

"Tsk. What have you figured out this time?"

"Horcruxes," Snape said coldly. Felix was quite surprised; he hadn't expected Severus to discover this on his own.

"But how—"

"Listing all the dark magic names I could find—fortunately, I happen to have enough discernment in this regard. Then eliminating them one by one. I narrowed it down to ten, but couldn't confirm the answer until I coincidentally met Professor Slughorn at the Honeydukes entrance," Snape casually explained.

Apart from marveling at the coincidence, Felix had no other thoughts. Despite everything, this was still traceable—Dumbledore had taken him to visit Mr. Slughorn several times during Harry's fourth-year summer holiday. With Severus's acumen, he was sure to have guessed that Slughorn held significant secrets; what was lacking was a few connections. Moreover—Felix estimated that Severus had contributed the best conversation skills during his chat with Slughorn, possibly even using Dumbledore's name? That's likely what lowered Slughorn's guard.

Would Severus guess that Harry was a horcrux? Felix pondered, but that wasn't his trouble; let Dumbledore worry about that!

"Have you considered Potter disrupting your plans?" Snape suddenly asked.

"What about him?" Felix suddenly remembered that letter.

"He's testing me," Snape squeezed out those words between his teeth.

Felix turned around, finding it hard to suppress a smile. "Oh, hey," he said, trying to keep a straight face. "Rest assured, I'll consider his influence... Maybe it's a good thing; the more people involved, the harder it is to untangle the mess. I'll find a chance to talk to Dumbledore, come up with a few more plans."

After parting ways with Snape, Felix used a communication mirror to contact Lupin, who was holed up in the castle.

"I have a feeling that the castle will be attacked today between six and eight in the evening. The stuff I left in the storeroom will come in handy."

"Great," came the gentle reply. "I've been planning a staff gathering, they've been working really hard lately... By the way, how did you pinpoint the exact time, crystal ball or tea leaves?"

"Neither, I looked at the moon phase," Felix joked.

"Oh—actually, you could have just asked me," Lupin said happily. "I suppose I have more authority, considering it's only been a few days since the full moon."

"Is your health alright?"

"Barely manageable, the potions Severus provided are more effective than what's available commercially, but they're also more bitter. I'm worried I'll develop a sweet tooth someday."

"At least I know what to get you for Christmas next year," Felix said optimistically. "I'll keep an eye on the map, and if the attack happens, I'll rush over immediately. So, be careful, prioritize survival."

"What about the school?" Lupin asked, surprised.

"The best scenario is to create a time gap, and in any case, I have to show up at the company."

Felix prepared to put away the communication mirror. But from the other end came Lupin's hesitant voice, "Felix, do you know Fenrir Greyback?"

"The notorious werewolf?" Felix remarked casually. "I don't know him. What happened?"

"He's dead. On the third day of his confinement by the Ministry, before they figured out how to deal with his memory loss, he turned into pus with a 'pop.' They say the smell in the interrogation room was unbearable—"

"Stop describing," Felix said with a grim face. He was willing to bet that he heard a faint laugh from the other side.

"Alright, Professor Lupin, give my regards to the moon. And—thank you."

In the evening, the sun was slowly setting behind the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, darkening the sky. After dinner, Wilkie Twycross was conducting a tutorial on Apparition and Summoning in the Great Hall, and only about thirty students who hadn't met the standards remained.

"Umbridge and Avery are late again?" Twycross asked with a dark expression; he was in a foul mood.

Although Professor Tofordy was the nominal team leader for this trip, being older, he had only made an appearance at the start. These days, the most experienced Twycross had been in charge.

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Twycross," a young man rushed over, apologies written all over Avery's face. "I'm late."

Wilkie Twycross nodded stiffly and waited a few more minutes, but Umbridge still hadn't shown up. Annoyed, he decided that when he got back, he'd emphasize her

negligence in the report. "Let's continue with the lesson," he announced.

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor's common room, Harry was idly working on his homework. Professors weren't concerned about Valentine's Day, so their workload hadn't decreased; in fact, it had only increased with the start of the new term.

He kept the Marauder's Map under the parchment, occasionally glancing at it.

Suddenly, he stood up with a thud, his knee knocking against the table, making a loud noise. Ron, Hermione, even Neville, Seamus, and Dean at a few tables away were startled, and everyone in the common room looked his way.

Suppressing tears, Harry stared fixedly at the Marauder's Map. Umbridge's dot was moving rapidly, heading towards the Headmaster's office. But there was no one there right now.

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