A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 609: Welcome Changes - (1)

"I couldn't find a reason to keep it," Dumbledore said casually.

"But I noticed you still wear that ring. You seem to like it," Felix brought up a casual topic.

Dumbledore lowered his head to examine the ugly ring on his finger. He absentmindedly caressed the black gem on it and smiled. "Who doesn't like ancient, meaningful heirlooms? Nostalgia, you know! I met the last descendant of the Gaunt family, not Voldemort, but his uncle Morfin. And from Morfin's memories, I saw Voldemort's mother and grandfather."

"What were they like?" Felix became interested.

"To be honest, a dreadful family," Dumbledore hesitated for a moment. "Old Marvolo, his son Morfin, and daughter Merope. They had a habit of intermarrying, leading to various personality defects that made them utterly unable to rise above their circumstances. They lived in poverty, with Merope slightly better off, but her two relatives... let's be fair, they lacked reason, had terrible tempers—by that, I mean their uncontrollable violent tendencies—and were arrogant, proud to the point of absurdity."

"And stubborn," Felix added.

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"Yes, perhaps that's the root of the problem. They were so stubborn that they refused to make any changes," Dumbledore agreed. "It's a common ailment among most ancient families. Clinging to the honor of ancestors without letting go. But if you ask them what they've done for that glory, I would say—almost nothing. Their thoughts and bodies became increasingly rigid, not much better than Inferi."

Silence for a moment.

Felix waited quietly, and Dumbledore eventually spoke.

"I think I owe you an explanation," he said gently. "Gellert... his health is very poor. The prolonged imprisonment destroyed his well-being. Even if he completely frees himself from magical constraints, he won't be able to return to his peak. His overall strength may not even surpass Alastor... I admit I've been a bit soft. He'll stay at the school for a year and then return to Nurmengard."

"During this time, I will keep a close eye on him."

Felix understood the complex emotions Dumbledore had for this friend and adversary. He nodded silently, then changed the topic, "And what about his intentions? Is it just teaching students, or..."

"Ah, we've come to the point," Dumbledore said. "He showed strong curiosity about you and mentioned Professor Babbage. If my guess is correct, he will visit the greenhouse later!" ＲãℕОᛒƐṨ

"Uh—" Although Dumbledore's tone was not accusing, Felix felt a bit awkward.

This matter had a lot to do with him. He knew that Grindelwald was a proud man, evident from the tone of his replies. But Felix had not shown much respect for the old wizard's opinions before. On the contrary, he introduced various changes in the magical world to Grindelwald under various banners, some phrases like 'you may not know' and 'that era did not have this...' were used quite frequently.

This might have touched a nerve in Grindelwald—a strong sense of frustration. This frustration had nothing to do with knowledge, wisdom, or temperament; it was purely because he had been closed off for too long, lagging behind an entire era. Thus, he could only passively accept the facts thrown at him by Felix, with no way to retaliate.

His life had come to a standstill in 1945, ending in failure. As long as he stayed in the Nurmengard prison, this would never change.

Now, he couldn't hold back any longer and had finally broken free.

Felix felt a bit ashamed, though this feeling vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Well, there's something you should know, Albus. Grindelwald seems to get along well with Harry. I saw Harry taking him to buy a new wand..." Felix mentioned.

Dumbledore raised his head abruptly, "Is that true?"

Felix shrugged.

Dumbledore hurriedly left. Felix could easily imagine what would happen next: Grindelwald would be forced to stay in the castle, away from Harry. Because, as Dumbledore feared, Grindelwald's thoughts were toxic.

"Tsk."

Felix whistled happily, wandering around the Headmaster's office where no one was present. The portraits of the former headmasters, who were previously sleeping in their frames, opened their eyes, whispering to each other.

"Dumbledore will pay for his softness," a pessimistic old witch with long silver curls said.

"He's too irrational," echoed another wizard with a yellowish complexion.

"We should trust Dumbledore's decisions. He's the wisest among us. And don't forget, the prophecy mentioned by that person—" a seemingly frail old wizard with weak physique spoke slowly.

A moment of silence.

Felix, trying to stroke Fawkes's gorgeous golden-red feathers, perked up his ears at the mention of the prophecy.

"Hush!" A wizard with a big red nose and a chubby body shouted.

The portraits closed their mouths, realizing that Felix, an outsider, was present, and they wouldn't reveal secrets anymore.

"Cough, cough." Felix listened for a while, walked over, and knocked on the frame of the silver-haired witch. "Excuse me, madam, you just mentioned a prophecy—"

Clear and very realistic snoring sounded in his ears, and he even saw the drool flowing from the corner of the old witch's mouth.

Felix: "..."

He moved to another position, approached the portrait of the red-nosed wizard, and the wizard flopped onto the desk

with a thunderous snore echoing in the circular office. Soon, all the portraits 'fell asleep,' but Felix clearly saw them stealing glances at him.

"Enough questions, young rascal. We won't tell you," Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait said in a smug tone. "Unless you're the Headmaster, we won't listen to you, and it's a waste of effort. And you're still far from that position..."

He pointed to the chair behind the long-legged desk, making his attitude clear.

Felix lightly hummed. "Did Sirius never tell you? I have a good relationship with the current Minister of Magic. Applying to enter the Prophecy Hall of the Department of Mysteries is a breeze for me. They store copies of all prophecies there."

"You can try." Headmaster Black's portrait said with a complacent tone.

Felix froze in place. He said with little confidence, "Is there... any difference? It can't be; I mean... all prophecies are up there. There can't be exceptions. There can't be!"

"Ah, ah!" The portrait of Headmaster Black burst into laughter.

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