Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 275, Section 274: The Death of Nicol
"Book?"

A miserable voice rang out from the crowd.

"That's right, it's your textbook. You might have to start by studying their parents' diet. Hmm, I bred them using a human-headed lion-bodied scorpion-tailed beast and a fire crab. You can start your search from that direction. I've prepared many options here—choose according to the recommendations in the book! Children!"

“But, Professor?” a Gryffindor student said, raising his hand with a pained expression, “we simply can’t open it; it’s too terrifying.”

When this textbook is mentioned, almost no student will have a pleasant expression. Some students tie it up so tightly that it can't bite, while others put the book in a small box or simply clip it up with a large clip.

"None of you can open your textbooks?" Hagrid was still prepared for what was happening, thanks to Harry and the others' reminder last night. "Well, well... I think you may have noticed that Harry, well, and the others' books are very quiet and don't need to be tied up—you just need to stroke their backs."

Unfortunately, perhaps because of the example of Parkinson's disease, no one stood up to contradict Hagrid at this time, which made him, who was prepared, feel a little disappointed.

“You’re already third-year students, so you should have a way of dealing with this book by now.” After thinking for a moment, Hagrid still followed the steps and said what Sirius had taught him.

In short, we should first focus on the students themselves.

"Alright, after you open the book, you can go and find out what the Blasttail Snails might like to eat. Remember, their parents are a human-headed lion-bodied scorpion-tailed beast and a fire crab. Go find out what they like to eat first."

Hagrid shouted.

"I can tell you in advance that if you raise the Blasttail Clams very well by the end of this semester, you will have the opportunity to touch—Angry Horn!!"

With a loud roar, Hagrid shouted, and suddenly, an ice-blue dragon flew out of the Forbidden Forest. She swooped down over the roof of Hagrid's hut and flew back amidst the students' gasps.

"Snap out of it!" Hagrid clapped his hands forcefully, drawing the students' attention back. "See that? That's Angry Horn... Isn't she beautiful?"

To be honest, Hagrid looked even more fascinated than the students.

"Yeah, so beautiful."

This time, even the Slytherin students didn't object.

"That's the ice dragon that protected Hogwarts last year, right?" Reluctantly turning away, a student asked excitedly, "If we take good care of these little creatures, will we have a chance to have her carry us around?"

“I don’t know,” Hagrid shrugged. “Angry Horn is Principal Potter’s fighting partner. I can only promise you that you’ll have a chance to touch her. As for whether you can get her to take you flying, that’s up to you to persuade her.”

Or—persuade Harry!
In an instant, eager eyes once again fell on Harry.

“…Angry Horn is very intelligent,” Harry had to explain. “She is not like those ordinary, mindless dragons. Her intelligence is equivalent to that of a normal human, so I can’t force her if she doesn’t want to.”

"So, Principal, is Angry Horn a new breed of fire dragon?" a student asked. "I've never seen such a beautiful dragon before."

“Yes, elemental dragons, indeed a new species of fire dragon… ice dragon,” Harry nodded slightly. “I think you should have already felt the charm of magical creatures.”

“Yes, Professor,” someone immediately said to Hagrid, “Let’s get started! I can’t wait!”

Hagrid's first lesson came to a successful end.

Driven by sufficient temptation, even the hundreds of slimy, foul-smelling white worms in the box seemed beautiful. The students enthusiastically picked out what they thought was suitable for the fried snails and threw it in, then either watched excitedly as the little creatures ate it or watched them explode and shatter the food.

Breadcrumbs, sausages, grass, water insects, frog livers, ant eggs, green snakes... there's all sorts of food to feed them, and Hagrid has prepared a wide variety of items.

When get out of class ended, many people even felt like they hadn't had enough fun.

By the time dinner arrived, Hagrid's story with his Blasttail had spread among the students, along with his promise about the beautiful ice dragon and the task of raising a new and unknown magical creature—a topic that was quite appealing to students who had never seen a Blasttail before.

Compared to Hagrid, Lupin's teaching career started much more smoothly.

Thanks to Harry's groundwork, the students had little to question about Lupin, and he certainly knew what they wanted to hear. In the first class, he announced that they should put the textbooks aside for now; this was a practical class, and he needed the students to duel with each other to see their strength.

As for the duels between the young wizards... to be honest, they're not that great. For many students who think about lunch/dinner the most every day, using spells is often less effective than throwing down their wands and punching their opponent.

This is true even for third-grade students.

With Lupin's experience and intellect, he wouldn't have to expend any effort to convince these students.

Harry's identity kept changing among his professors, students, and headmaster. He had written to Nico about Mrs. Grey's request, but what he received in the end was not a repaired crown, but an invitation to Nico's funeral.

Nico invited many people to his funeral.

Harry saw those old wizards, all hunched over with white hair and beards, once again, but this time there were also young people like Madam Maxim. Harry was still the youngest among them.

"Do you think Lady Grey should see the tiara again?" Harry asked Dumbledore beside him. "What if she disappears because of it?"

"Why not?" Dumbledore replied without much thought. "I think it's a good thing, Harry. If a ghost is free from the burdens of the past and chooses to face what he couldn't face in the past, and can continue in the afterlife, that's certainly a good thing."

“But then Ravenclaw wouldn’t have its own signature ghost,” Harry thought for a moment and said, “If Lady Grey really does continue on her way, who do you think I should find to replace her?”

“That’s your problem,” Dumbledore burst into laughter. “You know what? Harry, I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about these things anymore.”

If it weren't for the fact that he simply couldn't refuse, Dumbledore would even want to resign from his position as president of the International Federation of Wizarding Societies—the old man had already tasted what it meant to be relaxed.

Voldemort is no longer a concern for him. Even if he were to fall to the ground and die right now, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone in the wizarding world being able to suppress Voldemort.

The headmaster's duties were now entrusted to a sufficiently responsible person, and the new Minister of Magic was also a pragmatist. In Dumbledore's eyes, the world suddenly seemed much easier. The only thing that still troubled him was Grindelwald's whereabouts. Since their last adventure, Grindelwald had vanished without a trace, and he couldn't find him anywhere.

“Oh, Albus, Harry?” Just as the two were talking, Nico walked over unsteadily. “You’re a little late.”

Compared to the last time we met, Nico now looked like a withered tree. There was no muscle on his body, only a thin layer of skin covering his bones. His face and eyes were deeply sunken, enough to frighten a child.

"Sorry, school just let out," Harry said apologetically.

“It’s alright, I was just saying,” Nico said cheerfully. “Being able to see so many old friends at the last moment of my life is already a very precious treasure.”

“Actually… if you want to…” Harry hesitated.

“Of course not,” Nico refused without hesitation. “I’ve lived long enough, as has Perenaar… You don’t understand, little Harry. Look at me now. About two hundred years ago, my body became incredibly fragile. Even the slightest bump or knock will dislocate or break my bones.”

“We’ve lived enough,” Nico said with a smile. “Albus thinks so highly of you, so he must have said that to you, right? Death is nothing but a great adventure.”

Next to the sign "—the starting point," Dumbledore added with a smile, "It's just the beginning."

“Yes, let’s start,” Nico nodded and said, “Let’s go, it’s almost time.”

It wasn't in France, but in Devon, England, where Nico and his wife had moved more than a decade ago.

Harry once asked Nico why, despite being French and having so much wealth in France, he ultimately chose to retire in England. Nico's answer was that the French were too overly enthusiastic.

"...I am pleased to introduce my successor to you all. Perhaps you have already heard of him. Yes, his name is Harry Potter, the current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." With both hands on Harry's shoulders, Nicol smiled and introduced him to his friends, "I am bequeathing to him my Nicol House in France, along with all my books and collections, in the hope that he can make further progress on the path of alchemy—provided that he finishes his own business first."

A burst of good-natured laughter.

“We thought you would choose a Frenchman, Nicole,” said an elderly witch.

“It wasn’t me who chose him,” Nico said, shaking her head slightly. “It said it wanted to go to him.”

Nico's words were somewhat enigmatic, but he didn't offer a specific explanation. Instead, he whispered to Harry, "I'm sorry, but you'll probably have to fix the crown yourself. As you can see, my time is running out."

“It’s alright, teacher, it’s what I should do,” Harry said earnestly. “I’ll fix it.”

“Very good, I believe you,” Nico patted Harry on the shoulder with satisfaction.

There was no intention to bury him back in France; Nicol's grave is in Devon, next to his cottage.

"Everyone, I'm about to die," Nico said cheerfully as he lay in his coffin, hand in hand with his wife. "Goodbye, we'll do our best to keep you from catching up with us."

A strange kind of funeral farewell, which probably only exists among wizards, and is even extremely rare among wizards.

After exchanging a final kiss with his wife, Nico closed his eyes.

He died quickly, as if he could freely decide the time of his death; he died the moment he closed his eyes—

"By the way, if there's anything you like in the house, you can take it with you as a souvenir."

In the midst of a silent moment of mourning, Nico suddenly opened his eyes again, added a sentence, and then closed his eyes again.

A little subtle.

Everyone waited quietly, making sure that Nico's chest was no longer rising and falling, and that he would not suddenly sit up in the coffin and say any more witty remarks.

He is probably really dead.

Because the coffin lid had closed by itself, the soil piled on both sides was filling the pit back in on its own.

"Oh, that cunning old dog..."

Harry could hear people in the crowd sighing.

The legendary alchemist, the only person to create the elixir of immortality, and a figure who had a profound impact on the magical world, thus came to an end in a humorous atmosphere.

Harry thought, "Maybe this is the effect Nicole wanted?"
He disliked the fact that people who attended his funeral all had sad expressions.

Everyone who attended the funeral chose one thing they liked from the cottage where Nico had lived the last days of his life, as a memento, according to Nico's will. As Nico's heir, Harry saw each wizard off one by one, at least getting to know them all.

Harry didn't lock the door of the house until he was the last one there.

He thought for a moment, then drew his wand again—Harry didn't want Nico's final resting place to be disturbed, and coincidentally, he knew a spell that could keep the secret buried forever.

The Mantra of Unwavering Loyalty.

With a skillful spell, Harry concealed the Nicol's grave and the cottage with the Faithful Charm, and returned to Hogwarts, where he found Lady Grey in the Ravenclaw tower.

“This is your mother’s tiara,” Harry said softly, placing the tiara on the table. “I’m sorry it’s destroyed, but destroying Voldemort’s Horcruxes is something that must be done.”

“It’s alright,” Lady Grey said, her expression tinged with sadness, but perhaps because she already knew the tiara had been destroyed, she remained remarkably calm. “Voldemort defiled it, it’s not your fault… it’s my fault, I failed to keep the secret…”

(End of this chapter)