The slacker professor at Hogwarts

At this moment, Mr. Filch, the gatekeeper of Hogwarts Castle, was very happy.

He finally caught the little wizard who dared to make the castle so dirty—Harry Potter.

He knew, of course he knew, that these young wizards, who had been training in the rain at the Quidditch pitch, would surely make a mess of mud and water on their way back.

But he just couldn't take it anymore!

He had just finished cleaning an entire corridor full of stinking excrement, scrubbing out frog brains and rat intestines from the crevices, and was patting his aching back with satisfaction as he looked at the shiny new floor tiles when he saw a series of muddy footprints on the freshly mopped floor at the corner.

Hey!

I couldn't hold back my anger!

You wizards, aren't you capable of casting spells? Aren't you capable of cleansing and refreshing?

Why make such a mess of the castle!

It was intentional, wasn't it?

You're deliberately making things difficult for poor old Filch, aren't you?

You just love to see me, a dud, make a fool of myself by being helpless and clumsy in dealing with these situations, right?

He followed quickly behind Mrs. Lorris (his pet cat) with the oil lamp in hand, and finally caught the wretched fellow—Harry Potter!

Just as Professor Snape described, this child is indeed very annoying!

"It's just a little mud for you, kid, but for me, it's a whole hour of washing and scrubbing!" Filch said angrily, gripping a long black quill pen, ready to fill in Harry Potter's crimes on the form.

However, just as Filch put down his pen, a loud crash came from the ceiling of the office, and the oil lamp rattled loudly.

"You little devil!" he roared instinctively, then realized something and his expression changed. He looked at the door opposite the office door and suddenly saw a large amount of blood gushing out from the crack in the door.

"Professor Kettleburn!"

He stood up anxiously, not wanting anything more to happen to the old professor.

"Harry Potter!" he called anxiously, "Grab your wand and come with me! Hurry!"

Harry shuddered and stood up, soaking wet. The clever boy knew this might be an opportunity to avoid Filch's punishment.

He quickly followed and rushed towards the office across the street.

only……

Why does the blood being washed out from the crack in the door look so familiar?

Yes, he would never forget that terrible lesson, in which they repeatedly experienced the difference between the "wrongfully murdered fairy" and the "corruption of the cellar," and in the blood that Professor Lockhart drank while lying on the ground after arriving at Urquhart Castle.

Mr. Filch slammed the door open.

Sure enough, it was Professor Lockhart.

It was just a little different from what he had imagined.

The scene before my eyes was truly horrifying.

The room was filled with charred black marks and wet blood. An old professor lay on the floor, his life hanging in the balance, while Professor Lockhart stood nearby with a glass of blood in his hand…

"!!!"

"!!!"

Filch paused, his body stiffening as he stared at the horrific scene, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, and he shakily reached out to touch Harry Potter with his arm.

Go, wizard!

Aren't you the savior?

Hurry up and get on it!

Harry swallowed hard. Even though he knew exactly what the blood was, he couldn't shake his fear. Finally, after Filch glared at him, he gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

"Professor Lockhart..."

So, appearance is absolutely crucial. If Lockhart had a way to cast the simple spell of cleansing, would he still be in such an embarrassing situation?

He nodded to Harry and Filch, sighed, and helped Professor Kettleburn to his feet.

After careful observation, thankfully it wasn't anything serious.

He summoned the fairy who had died unjustly. Her unique song had the ability to stimulate the activity of the human body. Under his guidance, she transformed into a sound wave and swept outwards.

Harry and Filch, standing nearby, felt goosebumps rise all over their bodies. They were in a state of utter terror, their souls trembling, their hearts pounding violently as if they were about to leap out of their throats.

Harry Potter had experienced something similar before at Urquhart Castle, but never as intensely as this, so intensely that he almost couldn't help but scream.

"Ah~~~"

Professor Kettleburn yelled and nearly jumped up, gripping the armrests of his chair.

Fortunately, he has no feet and only one hand, so he can't jump.

Lockhart quickly helped him up. "Professor Kettleburn, are you alright?"

Professor Kettleburn chuckled, a mischievous smile like that of a child. "Exciting, incredibly exciting! Professor Lockhart, can we do it again?"

"Your body probably can't take it." Lockhart beckoned the wronged fairy to transform back into a jellyfish and burrow into his body. He patted the old professor on the shoulder. "You need to take good care of yourself. The exciting adventures are always ahead, but we need to be strong enough to make it."

"Yes, yes." Professor Kettleburn stared intently at the figure of the unjustly murdered fairy, clicked his tongue, and said, "Dark magic creatures have characteristics completely different from magical beasts."

Lohat nodded. "We always need to close our hearts to them to avoid being disturbed. But it's the complete opposite when you're facing magical creatures; you need to open your hearts."

Professor Kettleburn raised an eyebrow, nodded to Filch who was carefully adjusting his prosthetic leg, and then said, "A very insightful point, Professor Lockhart. It seems you have a deep understanding of all these magical creatures! However, I think you are wrong!"

Lockhart was stunned.

"When we face magical creatures, we don't completely open our hearts; we always have to reserve a final stronghold. That stronghold is called the ego."

Professor Kettleburn spoke very sincerely, pointing in the direction of the fairy who had just been wrongfully killed, "On the contrary, I think that when you come into contact with dark magic creatures, you can't be too closed off. You have to learn to open up a part of yourself to accept, to contact, and to truly feel."

He said with a smile, "These words are meant for you because you have already grasped some principles. You must be careful to strike the right balance."

It's difficult to define such a degree clearly.

Lockhart couldn't help but recall that in the Forbidden Forest, his magical properties were in a state of "forest witch," and everything in the forest began to accept him and extend kindness to him.

That feeling...

It's too hard to figure out.

This seems to require a bit of talent, because the Forest Witch achieves this level through instinct. Even Lockhart, in his original form, did not achieve his accomplishments with the Oblivion Charm through in-depth research, but rather naturally reached that level step by step.

"We can use a small prop to help us understand this degree."

Professor Kettleburn watched Lockhart's frown with an air of experience. In his decades of teaching, he had seen this expression far too often, always appearing on exceptionally gifted wizards.

The smarter you are, the more you like to get stuck on details and the more complicated things become.

Magic is a very simple thing, and it should be very simple.

"Wizard!" he pointed to himself.

"Nature, the outside world, magical creatures, dark magic creatures... and everything else that we need to feel with our hearts." He gestured with his hands, indicating the names.

Then, he gently picked up the wand from the table and waved it in front of Lockhart. "It, the wand, is somewhere in between!"

Lockhart gasped and stared intently at the wand.

"Hahahaha..." Professor Kettleburn laughed, a smug laugh like a child. "See, I knew it! You completely overlooked its existence!"

"I……"

Lockhart's voice was strangely hoarse as he replied with difficulty, "I always thought it wasn't that important."

Even in spellcasting, which relies most heavily on the wand, he has always regarded it as a transitional tool for wandless spellcasting. Not to mention, when communicating with dark magic creatures, he never even considered using a wand.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Professor Kettleburn listened to his story with great laughter, pointing at him with amusement, "I've encountered another example of a clever person's stubbornness."

"This is a wand, one of the most important items strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic! African wizarding societies always have to pay an exorbitant price to obtain a limited number of secondhand wands! So much so that their magic schools have to desperately research how to cast spells without a wand. Don't they want to use them?"

"This is a wand that we strictly forbid magical creatures from touching. Throughout our history, we have killed countless house-elves, goblins, and centaurs, and even completely exterminated several intelligent species, all because they still dared to covet the wand."

He looked at Lockhart with a smile. "Now, do you still think it's unimportant?"

Lockhart listened to these words in a daze.

It felt as if a huge bronze bell was ringing in my head, and all the fog and mist dissipated, leaving my mind clearer than ever before.

He shakily pulled the wand from his pocket and stared at it intently.

"The magic wand connects me to the world..."

Yes.

He tried to immerse himself once again in the unique "forest darling" state of the "Forest Witch" to feel the subtle relationship between himself and the world.

This is not very appropriate, since he has already left the Forbidden Forest and returned to Hogwarts Castle.

But the wonderful feeling is still there, or rather, it has always been there.

The magic wand in his hand suddenly emitted a soft glow.

Looking through the fireflies at the kind-smiling old wizard across from him, he suddenly had a wonderful realization—he had helped the rabbits solve their problem, so the rabbits led him to the wise man's house, where they provided guidance and dispelled his confusion.

This is like a fairy tale.

This is magical.

But it felt so real, so real, that he truly felt that he was in a fairy tale at that moment.