Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 169, Section 168: Undercurrents and Professor McGonagall's Fury

In short, Harry's apprentices became the most popular people in the entire castle that weekend. Wherever they went, people surrounded them, wanting to hear them recount the details of the trial and what the centaur tribe was really like.

Even though a composed apprentice like Penelope had made it clear that their trials weren't as good as others imagined—whether it was the oppressive fear brought by the darkness or the various strange phenomena in the Forbidden Forest at night, especially their panic and despair when the giant spider attacked the group—they still became the envy of the other students.

Those who haven't experienced it firsthand can't truly understand the fear described by the apprentices. Well, this is also related to the fact that apprentices like Ron deliberately embellished and exaggerated the story to a certain extent.

So the end result was that the students became extremely excited about Harry's class for first-year students, which hadn't even started yet—the news had spread, and everyone knew that Harry would choose new apprentices in that class.

This excited them, and they began to make various preparations, including but not limited to some strange amulets with wizarding characteristics. The Muggle-born wizards prepared some small tools for wilderness survival, and some clever wizards went to Professor Flitwick to learn some aggressive spells.

After all, they weren't sure if Harry would arrange another trial.

This enthusiastic atmosphere infected almost everyone in the castle, almost—except Lockhart.

On Sunday morning, unlike usual when only female students surrounded Lockhart asking him all sorts of questions, many male students also gathered around Lockhart after breakfast, wanting to learn a few tricks from this master of adventure.

After all, this new professor is widely recognized in the British magical community as a wizard with extensive adventure experience, a fact that even the male students who dislike Lockhart would not deny.

Without a doubt, this Sunday morning was the happiest time Lockhart had since the start of the school year, but unfortunately, it only lasted half a day.

By the afternoon, the young wizards who had come hoping to learn about wilderness adventures and unique spells had left disappointed—they had listened to Lockhart's self-aggrandizing words all morning.

He talked about things like the Order of Merlin and the Charming Smile Award, and then he would pick out content from his own books and retell it. Lockhart's memory is undeniably good, but to the students' disappointment, this was the kind of thing they came to hear.

Please! They already read those stories before school started!

The adventures inside were indeed very interesting, and the magical knowledge interspersed within broadened their understanding of the magical world—but that was just something from the book!

Now that he has become a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, shouldn't he teach his students some unique spells that are not found in the books and are exclusive to Lockhart?
Every professor at Hogwarts has a unique skill, and even Harry, the youngest professor in history, is no exception. They will selflessly share their expertise with students during regular classes.

Except Lockhart.

By dinner time, the students' impression of Lockhart had changed to that of a professor who had kept his true abilities hidden, since after they checked each other's experiences, they were all surprised to find that Lockhart really hadn't taught anything new.

Lockhart, sitting in the VIP seat, ate his food while forcing a smile. Even from his seat, he could hear the students below talking about him—not pleasant words, but quite loud ones.

Lockhart was not unaware of what his students were saying about him, but he knew his own situation best; he really had nothing to teach them... and he couldn't reveal his most valuable skills.

Seeing Harry's popularity at the Gryffindor table, with people constantly asking him about shaman classes even during meals, Lockhart felt his eyes burning with jealousy.

“What’s wrong, Professor Lockhart?” Snape, standing to the side, gave a mocking smile. “Why don’t you teach your students the exquisite magic you always talk about? The professors at Hogwarts are not like those wild wizards outside.”

“Don’t worry about me, Severus,” Lockhart said in a lighthearted tone, even though he was feeling bitter inside. “Lockhart always has his plans.”

Upon hearing Lockhart call his name affectionately, Snape immediately made a face as if he had eaten shit, turning his head away in disgust.

The kind of person he hates most is someone who can take all the sarcasm and even retaliate with disgust.

Strangely, Lockhart didn't continue his rambling; his gaze was fixed intently on Harry's figure.

[...That wretched boy... stole my attention...]

【…Damn it…】

[...They should all be surrounding them...]

That was a voice from the heart, sprouting in Lockhart's heart, and an echo of his own thoughts—that was exactly what I was thinking.

Lockhart was so certain.

....................................

Even if Harry was dissatisfied, for the apprentices themselves, yesterday was indeed a great adventure, something to remember and celebrate.

Harry didn't participate in his apprentices' revelry. No longer considered a student, he naturally had to bear extra burdens—such as Professor McGonagall's anger.

"Letting a bunch of students cross the Forbidden Forest on their own! And at night!!" Professor McGonagall's roar echoed throughout the office. "How dare you?! Professor Potter!"

"The youngest student is only twelve years old! They are not like you! They are just ordinary wizards!!"

“Uh, Headmaster Dumbledore did follow us secretly, and I also asked the earth and fire elementals to look after us.” Harry tried to explain, feeling like he was about to fall in a typhoon, “There is absolutely no need to worry about safety.”

"You can't guarantee everything! There are too many unexpected things in this world!" Professor McGonagall looked so angry her hair was practically flying. "Was the appearance of the Eight-Eyed Giant Spider part of your plan?!"

"You only casually mentioned in the lesson plan that the apprentices who mastered the second element needed to undergo a trial, but you didn't say at all that the trial involved crossing the Forbidden Forest at night to reach the centaur tribe!"

Heaven knows just how furious Professor McGonagall was when she woke up to find out that Harry had led his students through the Forbidden Forest the night before.

“I must remind you again, Professor Potter! The vast majority of centaurs harbor a prejudice against wizards; to be more precise, I would call it hostility!” Professor McGonagall glared sternly at Harry and said, “What if a centaur goes mad? What if they harm the students?”

“The wizarding world will go mad! The Ministry of Magic will be more than happy to get rid of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest! That Rita Skeeter will go mad too—mad with joy!”

“Calm down, Professor,” Harry chuckled dryly, “but I’ve been watching them all along, and the elements really will protect them…when they’re in real danger.”

Harry could say frankly to Dumbledore that apprentices couldn't live under protection forever, but when facing Professor McGonagall—he really couldn't say it.

“A deadly crisis?!” Professor McGonagall’s voice rose several decibels. “Students are here to learn! Harry! They don’t need to take any risks! They certainly don’t need to put themselves in danger—that’s our responsibility as professors!”

Harry... surrendered with his hands raised.

For the rest of the time, Harry kept his mouth shut and didn't say another word in rebuttal. He realized that no matter what he said, it would only add fuel to the fire for Professor McGonagall, so he decided to let the venerable old professor vent her anger.

I was scolded for a full half hour.

But Harry finally spoke when Professor McGonagall, panting, asked him what he planned to do next and sternly warned him that he was absolutely not allowed to take this kind of trial again.

"The centaur tribe has agreed to maintain this trial, which is unique to shamans, as a new tradition—and Headmaster Dumbledore has also agreed."

Bang!

Almost the instant the words left his mouth, Harry felt the floor of the Transfiguration office spring together, and like a marble, he was propelled out of the office door. With a loud bang, the door slammed shut in front of him, nearly hitting his nose. There was no doubt that Professor McGonagall had kicked him out—Harry belatedly realized this.

Well, perhaps the most powerful statement is that Headmaster Dumbledore also agreed.

After standing there for a moment, Harry decided not to knock on the door again and report the shamanic class homework to Professor McGonagall... He should let the old professor calm down for a while first.

Turning around, Harry smiled at the students who were passing by in the corridor who had noticed the scene, and then quickly left.

Without even a moment's relief at surviving Professor McGonagall's clutches, Harry rushed to Hagrid's hut.

A mountain of thick trees had already been piled up on the open ground next to the hut. These were materials Hagrid had prepared to build Harry's office—Hagrid was even more excited than Harry himself about the fact that Harry would be his neighbor.

Even though Harry said many times that he didn't want to trouble Hagrid too much, the simple-minded half-giant still happily prepared many things for him, not only because of James and Lily, but also because Harry had already become Hagrid's friend.

That's why Harry is in such a predicament right now—he suddenly doesn't know how to bring up the Eight-Eyed Spider with Hagrid.

Should I say: Hey Hagrid, remember your other furry friend with eight eyes? I'm making his offspring my homework for my apprentices to hunt, so you'd better tell him to watch out?

"Hey! Harry? You're here?"

As Harry stood there pondering, Hagrid turned around and noticed him, beckoning him over.

"Oh, isn't it a bit inappropriate for me to call you that? I should call you Professor Potter," Hagrid joked, clearly in a good mood.

“There’s no need to be so serious, Hagrid.” Shaking his head, Harry put his worries aside for the moment and walked over to Hagrid, saying, “Didn’t you go to the castle today?”

“No,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “You know I’ve been busy ever since I found out you were planning to move out. Luckily, getting all this sorted out wasn’t too difficult—but never mind, how was your first class of the new semester? I mean, your own class.”

No wonder he didn't seem worried at all; news of the eight-eyed giant spider in the Forbidden Forest had spread everywhere, and Hagrid could hear about it just by taking a stroll around the castle.

"It went very smoothly." While still considering how to tell Hagrid everything, Harry continued, "All the apprentices have successfully made a pact with the fire elemental; at least they no longer need wands to light the fireplaces."

“That sounds really good, doesn’t it?” Hagrid laughed heartily. “At least it’s not like last year—the whole school drank your potion and only twelve people saw the earth elemental.”

“Indeed,” Harry nodded. “The first batch of apprentices were indeed very talented compared to the others, and I had no doubt that they could connect with the fire element.”

“That’s true,” Hagrid said with a grin, tossing the last thick tree trunk to the ground. “They are indeed extraordinary. To be honest, I also want an earth elemental as an ally; they look very powerful.”

“I think you could give it another try this year,” Harry said, patting Hagrid’s forearm affectionately. “You’re born to be a true orc shaman, the kind who can wear plate armor. Even Grom Hellscream wouldn’t say a word.”

“Oh, I’m not an orc, and I don’t know anything about Grom Hellscream… that name just doesn’t sound right,” Hagrid muttered. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to try again—anyway, how about a drink tonight?”

A pair of black bean eyes looked at Harry excitedly.

“Why not?” Harry said with a smile. “Let’s try the great pub I found in the cellar of Potter’s old house tonight. You’ll love it.”

"Really?" Hagrid rubbed his hands together excitedly. "That's great news—I mean, I'll prepare a stew, or do you prefer roast meat?"

"Roast meat," Harry said without even a second's hesitation. "I like roast meat."

Hagrid's culinary skills are somewhat hard to describe, especially his stews, which have a kobold-like beauty to them.

Authentic British cuisine.

As a dinner party to entertain friends, Hagrid also invited Hermione and the others to join him. Of course, these real children didn't get any alcohol.

"Giggle" put his glass back on the table, closed his eyes with a pained expression, and after a long while let out a loud burp. "Damn, this liquor is definitely old, it's way too hot."

"You don't like it?" Harry asked.

"How could that be? I love them to death!" Hagrid burst into laughter, his voice so rough it was like thunder.

This is what makes this wizard's wine so special; it makes people laugh out loud after drinking it.

Ron and Neville were gesturing to Hagrid's wine glass, which they considered a bowl, and watching Harry and Hagrid drink real wine with envy—they wanted to be like the adults.

“You know, Harry,” Hagrid said, his breath reeking of alcohol, “I’m so happy—it’s been so many years since I was this happy, to be honest, when Professor Dumbledore took me in after I was expelled and made me the gamekeeper.”

“I wasn’t even this happy when the Dark Lord died—because my friend died around that time—your parents, poor little Harry,” Hagrid said through teary eyes, his sobs so loud that Hermione was worried they would attract the attention of the people in the castle.

“It’s all over now, Hagrid,” Neville comforted him. “At least Harry is doing well now.”

“Yes, yes, I dare say even Headmaster Dumbledore, uh, even Voldemort at Harry’s age, wasn’t as good as him,” Ron said confidently.

“Oh, that’s true,” Hagrid grinned. “Professor Dumbledore had at least graduated from school before becoming a professor.”

"Anyway—I'm very happy, Harry," Hagrid patted Harry's back repeatedly, making him sway back and forth, "especially when I heard that you'd like to be my neighbor—I'm very happy!"

He emphasized this repeatedly.

“I know what the students say about me, a big, dumb brute, huh?” Hagrid took another big gulp of his drink. “Living all alone on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with no one to talk to.”

“Don’t say such things, Hagrid,” Hermione said quickly. “That sounds like something a Slytherin bad seed would say. Aren’t we your friends?”

“Yeah, let’s not talk about these weird things, Hagrid,” Ron said casually. “Don’t you want to know about our adventure last night?”

Ron longs for a new audience.

“Of course!” Hagrid laughed again. “Trials, huh? That word reminds me of the stories about Gryffindor, who are said to have undergone trials by fairies.”

“It’s just a legend,” Ron corrected, “like Merlin.”

“Who knows? Legends don’t just come out of thin air,” Hermione retorted. “Maybe the real history is hidden in those legends.”

“Maybe,” Ron shrugged, “but that’s not really our business, is it?”

(End of this chapter)