The Prisoners of Hogwarts

In the days that followed, the breathtaking glow of the sunset still seemed to linger in the air at Hogwarts.

If you were to stop any student in the castle at this moment and ask them who their most impressive professor was, nine times out of ten they would hear the same name: Jim Lynch.

Last Friday's mind-blowing online lecture undoubtedly propelled him to the center of all current Hogwarts discussions.

When the professors whispered in the faculty lounge, the conversation always revolved around him, discussing his audacious act of openly attacking the theory of pure-blood superiority.

Occasionally, when he encounters Lynch in the corridor, even the most reserved professor will give him a smile with a complex meaning and nod in greeting.

After class that day, at the edge of the podium, Dumbledore relayed Snape's strong protest, which ultimately led to Lynch being forbidden from using ravens to spy around the castle.

Lynch was thus forced to go to the castle himself, and his figure began to appear frequently throughout the castle.

In that office at the far end of the second floor, which Totz had meticulously maintained, one could occasionally catch a glimpse of him briefly lingering.

But more often than not, he strolled among the castle’s ancient stone corridors and spiral staircases, his inquisitive gaze calmly examining the mottled walls and heavy tapestries, as if searching for clues to some puzzle.

When students meet him, they always greet him with a mixture of awe and curiosity, a kind of reserved politeness.

Lin Qi, as always, responded to them with a warm smile.

In their spare time, besides games like wizard card battles, the male students also enjoyed discussing Professor Lynch's amazing magical abilities at the long tables in the common room or auditorium, and what ingenious spells he used to lift the entire stands into the air.

Some pointed out that Professor Lynch cast his spells silently and without a wand, so they began to speculate about the results of magic and willpower training, fantasizing that after studying magic research courses, they too could become such powerful wizards.

Some of the female students, however, focused on something subtly different from the essence of magic.

The center of their whispers was Professor Lynch's silhouette amidst the molten gold in the clouds—his towering figure contrasted sharply with the magnificent surroundings, drawing unusual attention from some of the girls in their private conversations. Whenever the topic reached this point, it was always accompanied by a few lingering sighs.

However, regardless of gender or how the focus of the discussion shifted, the topic always remained inescapable of eleven large, silver words deeply imprinted in their minds—"Magic is the response of magical power to will."

As Lynch said, everyone who took that class will never forget those words.

For this reason, Lynch became the most hated person among the Slytherin students at that moment.

Deep within the dungeons of Hogwarts Castle, in the Slytherin common room, dim daylight streamed through the Black Lake and through the huge glass windows in the wall, casting a constantly fluctuating green light onto the dark green walls.

In a corner, a surge of anger was burning fiercely in the perpetually damp and cold room of the lounge.

The pure-blood students of each grade gathered together with grim expressions. They had already forbidden open discussion of Lynch's theories in Slytherin's grounds, and now they were expressing their dissatisfaction with Lynch himself with harsh words:

"Trying to attract attention!"

"This is a blasphemy against the wisdom of Salazar-Slytherin!"

"He's delusional enough to shake the very foundations of pureblood!"

"We should ask Dean Snape to step in and stop this nonsense!"

Although not all the little snakes firmly believed in the superiority of purebloods, under the invisible pressure of the academy's mainstream, those few clear-headed voices wisely chose to remain silent.

Jim Lynch's name was almost unsurprisingly pinned to the top of Slytherin's list of "most unpopular professors".

Of all the students who denigrated and attacked Lynch, Draco Malfoy stood out the most.

He not only belittled Lynch with harsh words in the common room, but also deliberately raised his voice in the breakfast hall the next day, so that his mockery could be heard at several surrounding tables:

"I heard he lives in the Forbidden Forest."

He must have been bewitched by the fairies in the Forbidden Forest to say such crazy things!

That's why they came up with such an absurd theory!

Before he could finish his long-winded speech, two figures walked in through the auditorium doors.

It was Lynch and Snape.

At this moment, Lin Qi still walked with ease, a warm smile on his face.

Professor Snape, standing beside him, didn't look so good. The moment Malfoy's words reached his ears, his face instantly turned as gloomy and dark as the most stubborn potion residue at the bottom of the cauldron.

Two gazes, one calm and one icy, simultaneously and precisely landed on Malfoy.

Snape's black robes billowed behind him as he strode to the Slytherin table.

His thin but powerful hand slammed down on Draco Malfoy's slicked-back blond hair, forcefully pressing his arrogant head against the table, almost burying Malfoy's face in the silver plate in front of him.

"Apologize to Professor Lynch, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's voice was as if pulled from an ice cellar, every syllable chilling, "for your extremely rude and foolish slander of a professor! Immediately."

Malfoy's face flushed crimson instantly. The Dean's oppressive words and the large hand pressing down on his head almost made him cry. His lips trembled, and he managed to squeeze out a barely audible voice: "I...I'm sorry, Professor."

Lynch nodded slightly, his smile seeming to deepen, his voice so calm it was completely unwavering: "I accept your apology, Mr. Malfoy."

Young people are energetic, have active minds, and it's good that they have different opinions, but their way of expressing them is questionable.

His gaze turned to Snape. "Severus, since Mr. Malfoy is so energetic, perhaps we could arrange for him to do some... more constructive work?"

This morning I happened to overhear Mr. Filch complaining that he was having difficulty cleaning the stubborn stains in the castle washroom by himself and seemed to need extra help.

Snape's lips twitched violently.

He glanced at Lynch, then swept his sharp gaze across the Slytherin table. The Slytherin students around the table all shrank their heads, none daring to meet his gaze.

"Everyone at this table, copy the phrase 'I must not slander my teacher' across three pages of parchment!"

I need to see them on my desk by this evening!

Furthermore, if I hear any more disrespectful remarks about Professor Lynch...

You don't want to verify that consequence!

After saying that, he suddenly grabbed Draco's arm and dragged the ashen-faced Malfoy out of the noisy Great Hall like a bag of potion ingredients to be processed, leaving behind only a stifling silence.

Not far away, at the Gryffindor long table, Harry nearly choked on a mouthful of pumpkin juice. He covered his mouth tightly to prevent laughter from spilling out, his emerald eyes gleaming with glee—nothing was more satisfying than seeing Malfoy humiliated in public.