A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

At the dinner table, Felix and Sirius's conversation continued.

"Just as long as Kingsley agrees, he's the nominal organizer," Felix said in a low voice.

"I'll talk to him, but he might not be able to come until tomorrow morning, you know, considering his role at the Ministry," Sirius said, picking at a chicken bone.

The relationship between the Phoenix Society and the Ministry of Magic was intriguing. They were independent entities yet intricately connected. Many members of the Phoenix Society were also Ministry officials.

Amelia Bones understood this well but had no intention to act on it.

On one hand, it was out of respect for Dumbledore; on the other, there were pragmatic reasons. The Ministry personnel were complex, with many wizards skirting around to form connections with pure-blood families. One could say the Ministry acted as a sieve, filtering through various affiliations.

The Security Waterfall could wash away spells but not delve into one's intentions.

Certain crucial tasks—like safeguarding the Hogwarts Express—required strict confidentiality from Mrs. Bones and meticulous selection of participants to prevent leaks.

In this aspect of keeping secrets, the Phoenix Society had a natural advantage.

"I've enchanted around your place," Felix said, "similar to a trace effect—if magic is performed nearby, I'll be instantly alerted. Also, the current situation isn't that dire; Voldemort is adopting a retracting strategy. You don't need to worry excessively about your family's safety."

"I understand," Hermione nodded lightly, but worry lingered in her furrowed brows.

"You seem troubled, Miss Granger," Felix gestured towards a bench beneath a lush bell-shaped tree. "Why not sit over there? I rested there after coming out of the Department of Mysteries." Hermione easily understood his implication.

"Professor—"

They sat on the bench, gazing at the passing and strolling crowd in the Muggle community.

Felix slightly turned his head, facing Hermione, watching the beautiful sunset glow.

"Can wizards and Muggles truly not coexist?" Hermione hesitantly asked.

"What are your thoughts?" Felix gently replied.

"I believe," Hermione paused for a moment, then poured out her thoughts as if they had been penned in her heart for long, "of course, I wish for both to coexist, especially since I'm caught in between, I mean, my background. But from what I've read—in the History of Magic class and assignments—I've learned that wizards and Muggles originally had no barriers in history, yet the outcomes weren't splendid. They held mutual animosity, erupted into conflicts multiple times, and the witch hunts of the 14th century were just a glimpse of this context."

"That's accurate," Felix concurred.

"Also, many wizards choose to distance themselves. The books explain it as a measure to not violate the Statute of Secrecy, but this phenomenon existed before the Statute was enforced. Another explanation is that wizards look down upon Muggles, unable to tolerate their scent, but—"

"Sounds like comforting rhetoric for the failed," Felix smirked.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then nodded imperceptibly, "But shouldn't wizards have the upper hand? After all, they possess magic?"

"Well, that question is quite complex. If you look at the wizarding society's structure, a mature wizard is like a microcosm, capable of fulfilling most of their needs with magic. This leads to—wizards not being as closely connected as ordinary people. In other words, it's challenging to rally them for a common goal. From what I know, the last person to manage this was imprisoned in Nurmengard."

"Gellert Grindelwald?" Hermione asked softly, the name bearing a certain allure.

"Correct, but he also capitalized on discontent with the Statute of Secrecy," Felix said calmly. "And you overlook a crucial point—magic is rare in the real world but common among wizards—" Ȓ

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Not necessarily," Felix spoke as if discussing scholarly matters, "I've encountered some mystical societies; they regard magic as... hmm... perhaps 'sacred' would describe it? Can you imagine them realizing real wizards using magic for laundry, cooking, or gardening?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, contemplating seriously.

"So—well, wizards are accustomed to using magic to solve various troubles. Everyday magic is the norm?" she questioned.

"They are the populace, or pragmatists, but not warriors," Felix summarized shortly, "Magic in their hands isn't a weapon, it's a tool—at least for most wizards. So, when faced with sudden situations, they won't necessarily make wiser choices because of magic, especially children. To protect their families, wizards choose to step back."

"But there are exceptions," Hermione asserted, "Wendelin the Weird in the 14th century enjoyed being caught, allowing herself to be captured in various disguises, a total of forty-seven times."

"In those days, wizards who had 'no ties' always lived more freely," Felix remarked.

The two sat quietly for a while, until the sky gradually darkened, casting shadows on the ground. They watched a young couple, perhaps with a toddler, strolling by.

"Professor, when did the term 'Muggle' first appear?" After the family passed, Hermione inquired again.

"Ah, that's an interesting question. I suppose you're asking if it carries a derogatory meaning?" Felix smiled, not waiting for Hermione's reply. He continued, "Its exact origin is untraceable; no one knows what the first wizard who used 'Muggle' was thinking. But it did catch on because, at the time, the magical world didn't have a unified term for 'non-magical people,' so this term was increasingly accepted."

"As for whether it's derogatory, it depends on the speaker's tone. Both the Weasley family and the Malfoy family use this term, but their perspectives are undoubtedly different. I believe you've experienced this?"

Her shadow nodded.

"But overall, if you use this term in conversation with ordinary people, it still carries a hint of wizardly arrogance and disdain. A very subtle difference, maybe only noticeable to young wizards from Muggle families."

"Why is that?"

"Would you like to be labeled," Felix countered, "especially when you're not sure of its meaning?"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Of course not—" realization dawned on her, "so, when you talk to my parents, you've never used the term 'Muggle.'"

"I aimed to reduce communication barriers," Felix nodded slightly, "using 'ordinary people' or 'non-magical folks' is evidently more understandable. But if a wizard stands before you, speaking that way would seem very strange and affected."

Hermione began to comprehend. She preferred the professor's approach, displaying respect for the listener.

"And the first question?"

"Can wizards and Muggles coexist? I can't provide an answer, Miss Granger, but I believe that the trend of integration is inevitable. More accurately, I think it's only a matter of time before the wizarding world is exposed to ordinary people."

"Oh, I see! So, Professor, that's why you established the 'Future World' company?" Hermione asked astutely.

Felix chuckled softly.

"I hope to establish a buffer zone. It's a responsibility we—wizards from Muggle backgrounds—naturally carry."

Hermione wore a smile, though never one to feel inferior about her origins, the term "mudblood" from Malfoy still stung. After today, if Malfoy spoke such words again, she would only pity his shallowness and ignorance.

However, Malfoy hadn't said much in the past two years.

Was it because of the professors? Hermione wondered, regretting not witnessing this during her time travel. Initially, she felt like an out-of-place shadow, wandering aimlessly between Hogwarts' castle and grounds, even ghosts failing to notice her.

But in doing so, she stumbled upon many secrets previously inaccessible to her.

Relying on the meager provisions in her beaded bag, Hermione endured the toughest days. Yet food eventually ran out. Just when she thought she might suffer the fate of starving within the confines of time, fortune favored her.

A crack appeared in the time-turner.

Amidst the tension and fear, Hermione found herself solid again. Hastily sneaking to the kitchen for food, after a satisfying meal, she pondered if her actions altered history or were part of Hogwarts' peculiar rumors.

A ghost stealing food?

But hunger clouded her thoughts; she couldn't dwell on that. Her actions proved right—two hours later, she underwent another time jump, her body nearly intangible. Thankfully, she began to understand the pattern, achieving tasks previously impossible.

Such as sending a letter.

Nearly a month and a half passed, Hermione realized she had a tangible form even in the normal timeline, as if veiled in invisibility. She guessed that nearing the regular timeline gradually made her more real. Being discovered was inevitable.

So, she escaped the school, returned home, intending to record her experiences and spend time with her parents. After that... Hermione pursed her lips, gazing at Felix. "Thank you, Professor."

"What?"

"Oh, I mean, I seem to have found a new goal, an extension of the old one—Professor, I plan to join the Ministry after graduation," Hermione said.

"Bad news, I thought you'd choose 'Future World' Company," Felix said, somewhat perplexed.

"I won't give up Ancient Runes either," Hermione greedily added.

...

Felix and Hermione returned to Black Manor. Before long, it was time to sleep. Mrs. Weasley stopped Ron from boasting about his new broom and ushered them back to their rooms.

"That's the Firebolt 2000!"

Ron and Ginny exclaimed. But then Ron glanced warily at Ginny. "You're not expecting me to lend you the broom, are you?"

"Tightfisted."

Ginny huffed, standing up proudly like an arrogant cat.

"Alright, children, time for bed. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day." Mrs. Weasley, experienced, said. "I need to wake you up early, or someone will forget something..."

She hit the nail on the head. The next morning, chaos erupted in the house. Mrs. Weasley and the portrait of Black's lady in the hallway both yelled hoarsely.

"No magic allowed! You two imbeciles!"

"Filthy mongrel, defiling my ancestral home!"

Harry hastily dressed, stuffed toiletries into his trunk, others equally chaotic, until they boarded the Hogwarts Express, finally breathing easier.

"Fred and George wanted to charm the luggage, nearly hit me..." Ginny explained the morning's chaos to Harry.

Harry scratched his head, unsure how to address Ginny alone—just then, Ron and Hermione had headed to the Prefects' compartment. "Um, are you alright?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt terrible.

"I'm fine," Ginny smiled. They walked, luggage in hand, searching for an empty compartment, a girl with long, tousled, dirty blonde hair leading the way. "I saw Luna; we're going there," Ginny said.

Harry looked up, only catching a glimpse of her back, yet recognized her from the ethereal way she entered the compartment.

Navigating through the crowd, they encountered Neville halfway. "Oh, Harry, I thought I was late," he said cheerfully. "Just barely made it."

On the other side, Felix entered a compartment up front. He opened the door, finding several Order and Phoenix members seated quietly inside.

"Hello."

Kingsley, Dawlish, Moody, and Dedalus Diggle greeted him individually.

Felix chose an empty seat, noticing the cramped space making Moody visibly anxious, his body uncomfortable, eyelids twitching, rough hands restless.

"Be careful with your wand, Alastor," Diggle warned cautiously beside him.

Felix blinked, finding the trip suddenly more intriguing. He took out a coin, making it dance on his fingertips, thoughts swirling. Dumbledore's late-night visit and his words resurfaced in his mind. Hmm, what excuse to leave later? Snacks from the trolley?

He sighed silently, feeling it didn't quite fit his image.

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