A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

Chapter 184 Grimmauld Place

9 month 1 day.

Felix got up early and returned to London via Diagon Alley.

He needs to handle the procurement work for the new school year.

In addition to updating his film reel collection, he also bought a lot of the latest books and clothes, but most importantly, he found a map shop.

This is a small shop with a vintage feel. On the rustic brown shelves, there are all kinds of maps.

There are maps of London as well as maps of the British Isles, each with different uses—aerial photographs, tourist maps, transportation maps…

As Felix prepared to buy a thick atlas, he casually asked the shop assistant, "Have you heard of Grimoire Place?"

The shop assistant adjusted her glasses and looked up from a colorful picture book in front of her...

Thirty minutes later, he was standing in a dilapidated neighborhood in London's Old City.

The houses here are quite old, with peeling paint revealing large patches of unsightly gray. To be honest, he hadn't expected the Blake family's old house to be hidden here.

He walked around the area. Some houses were still inhabited, but others were clearly abandoned—lots of garbage were piled up at the entrances, and the windows had been smashed.

On a more desolate lawn, his gaze fell upon a house with the address 11 Grimoire Place.

He looked to both sides; number 10 was on the left and number 13 was on the right.

"Interesting, even the wizard's vision has been blocked?"

Felix stood still, scrutinizing something.

An old woman carrying a cloth bag strolled over slowly. "Young man, what brings you here?"

"I'm visiting a pen pal, a lady. The address she gave me isn't very clear; I'm trying to decipher it," Felix said evasively.

"I've lived here for over fifty years, since I was born... Maybe I can help. Tell me about it."

"Uh, Grimmauld Place in the old town of West London, the house number is blurry, but I guess it's number 12." Felix looked at the helpful old woman with a hint of helplessness.

"Number 12? That's impossible, young man, there's no such house." The old woman raised her voice. "You must be mistaken... or your friend played a cruel joke on you."

"I find it strange too," Felix said, pointing to the houses in front of him. "This is number 11, that's number 13, but there's no number 12..."

The old woman let out a hearty laugh: "...You're not the only one with this doubt." She blinked and lowered her voice, saying, "It's a mistake. I heard from my grandmother—oh, she heard it from someone else—that the people who built the house back then were a bunch of idiots. The workers did their jobs, and by today's standards, they weren't bad. But they put the wrong house number on it, and the city hall didn't notice when they inspected it. The mistake has just been left there."

"As far as I can remember, there have been a few feedbacks over the years, but there has been no response. You know, this place is not valued at all. Maybe in another ten years or so, it will be demolished under the pretext of being unsightly... Anyway, I will not agree to it, nor will I let my grandson agree—he is only two years old. But what's that saying? Education should start early, and some traditions should be preserved." She tilted her head and said humorously.

The old woman was quite talkative, and from her, Felix learned some less-than-reliable legends.

For example, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place is real; it's a haunted house." Or, "The workers back then didn't put the wrong number on the door; a nobleman bought it, but then the house disappeared..."

Felix was very interested in these legends, occasionally letting out a few exclamations of admiration, which made the old woman look at him with even more satisfaction. "There aren't many young people like you who know how to respect the elderly. Unlike the family next door, who plays music in the middle of the night, making a lot of noise and disturbing everyone's peace. I knocked on the door several times, but it was no use."

Felix handed her a small card, and for a moment the old woman seemed to see a flash of gold on the surface of the card, though it could also have been a reflection of sunlight.

"Ma'am, you could write a note on it and slip it under the door to that family, warning them to be mindful of other people's feelings. And it would be best to include the emergency number as well."

"Will it work?" The old woman took the card with some skepticism. "People around here aren't very polite."

"Give it a try, it can't get any worse."

After declining her invitation, Felix cast an illusion spell on himself and stood quietly in place.

A few people walked by in the neighborhood from time to time, but no one paid any attention to him.

Around noon, he took out his wand and waved it repeatedly, parting layers of mist until he was completely enveloped in the air.

His figure disappeared.

Felix struggled forward through a narrow crevice, only to be blocked by an invisible wall—a highly sophisticated magical barrier.

He then heard a piercing scream, so horrible that Felix shuddered. A few seconds later, he was thrown back by a tremendous force and found himself back on the lawn of Grimmauld Place.

"Is someone inside?"

Felix said with a hint of doubt, "Principal Black didn't mention this..." But upon closer reflection, he thought it could also be a house-elf.

After hesitating for a moment, Felix decided to leave. He could indeed squeeze back in and break through the barrier with his superior magical skills, but that could take an hour or two, or even several days.

If there were people inside, whether wizards or house-elves, they would not remain indifferent to his attack.

"At least I know where this place is now."

Felix gave him a long look, then disappeared from sight.

……

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts Express.

"Did you see that, Harry? Malfoy is such a coward. He ran away as soon as he saw the professor. That's so typical of his family!" Ron said with a slightly sarcastic tone, but you can't blame him for that, since Malfoy had just mocked his family.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, pointing at the professor slumped over the small table. "Watch out..."

The three glanced at the disheveled professor, who was still fast asleep. They continued their conversation, but in much lower voices.

"I'm serious. If he dares to make fun of my family again, I'll grab him by the head—Harry, what's wrong with you?" Ron asked, looking at Harry.

"What?"

"You're too calm. You were like that when Malfoy was around. You just so naturally pulled out your wand and looked at Malfoy, like he was some kind of caterpillar."

"I feel the same way, Harry," Hermione said earnestly.

Harry scratched his head. "Maybe it's because I've gotten stronger? When Malfoy provoked us, I didn't feel much anger, it was like watching a performance. It's strange..."

He looked at Ron and Hermione and said uncertainly, "I think it's because even if we did fight, I could easily win. I anticipated this outcome."

Ron let out a strange cry, "That's so cool, buddy!"

"Keep your voice down, Ron—" Hermione reminded him.

But he didn't pay any attention, excitedly saying, "Tell us more about the details of Professor Hyp's special training of you, Harry! I'm so envious!"

Harry repeated helplessly, "To be honest, it wasn't a pleasant experience. I don't know how I managed to get through it, but Professor Hyp said it was a rare opportunity..."

He began to speak, and Ron and Hermione stared at him intently.

No one noticed that the professor, who was sleeping peacefully to the side, twitched slightly.

Hello readers~ The book's operations manager has launched a joint fan fiction event, which involves writing original illustrated posts. Interested readers are welcome to participate (pinned post). This will also help the book gain wider recognition. Thank you~.

(End of this chapter)