A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

Chapter 203 The Magic Rune Club Recruitment

Later that afternoon, a brand new poster was hung on the bulletin board, and the title could be seen from a distance: Magic Rune Club Recruitment Notice!

A group of young wizards were gathered around the bulletin board, and an enthusiastic student read it aloud so that those behind could hear it too—

"We are now recruiting the first batch of members for the Magic Rune Club. Requirements are as follows (choose one of the following three options, with preference given to the best):"

1. Roughly master thirty practical ancient runes (enough to repair magical puppets), or be proficient in one practical ancient rune (see the image below).

Second: Independently complete a single alchemical item;

Third: Based on "Exploration of Ancient Magical Runes", complete a seven-foot-long paper (with a separate bibliography attached).

Selection time: Last Saturday morning of this month; Location: Ancient Magic Runes classroom;

—Felix Heap, head of the Magic Rune Club, September 7, 1993.

Below the poster is a animated image and a long list of books.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed to the front of the crowd and carefully examined the words and pictures on it.

"I think the first requirement is the easiest to meet," Ron said, staring at the end of the first requirement. "It's the last sentence: you only need to master one practical ancient rune."

His words drew a chorus of agreement.

"No way!" Hermione retorted sharply, pointing to the animated image on the bottom left of the poster—a little wizard holding a spell sign, which then turned into a flame—"That's the hardest of all the requirements. On the contrary, I think the third requirement is the easiest."

"Are you kidding me, Hermione?! That's a seven-foot paper, seven feet!"

"My eyes are fine, Ron. In fact, I've written much longer papers."

Many students recognized the Ancient Runes class assistant, especially those who had taken Ancient Runes for more than a year, as they were very familiar with the witch's handwriting.

Privately, many people complained that Granger, a second-year student, was actually the professor of Ancient Runes, because her neat and elegant handwriting often appeared on assignments for that course, spanning five years.

"Miss Granger, I would like you to explain in detail the meaning and difficulty level of each point." Percy, a seventh-grader, appeared, wearing a badge symbolizing the president of the boys' student council. He said in a reserved and formal tone, "Your words will be a valuable reference."

Ron whispered to Harry, "Look at him, he looks like a spokesperson for the Ministry of Magic, except he's missing a protruding belly."

Harry glanced at Percy, then thought about the image of Uncle Vernon's belly on Percy's body, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Hermione noticed everyone's eyes were on her. "Oh, of course," she said nervously. "Hyp, cough cough! Professor Hyp's Rune Club values ​​practical runes more, and his three requirements are basically based on that."

"The first requirement assesses your mastery of practical runes. From what I understand—and I mean from my review of your assignments—many of you in fifth grade and above meet the requirements, except for that last sentence!"

"You all understand the second point, but to reach the professor's standard, you'll definitely need to use more alchemical symbols and practical runes;"

"The third test assesses understanding of practical runes, which I personally believe is the simplest method and the best choice for students below fifth grade..."

After more than ten minutes, Hermione finally managed to break free from the crowd and find Harry and Ron waiting at a distance.

"My goodness, this is the first time I've ever been treated so warmly!" Hermione said, unsure whether she was happy or annoyed.

Ron muttered from the side, "I'd like to switch with you."

"Let's go eat in the Great Hall first," Harry said.

Just then, a voice broke in—

"So, you Muggle just made a big splash!" Draco Malfoy appeared out of nowhere, looking sickly. Beside him were Pansy Parkinson and his two ever-present henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Shut up, Malfoy! You should think about your father and how you're going to explain things to your Death Eater friends," Ron said with a look of disdain.

Draco's expression darkened; Ron had hit a nerve. Since his outburst last Tuesday, after three days of preparation, his father had sent a strongly worded letter forbidding him from mentioning anything related to the Dark Lord.

"Erase this person from your memory, understand? Otherwise, I'll bring you back." That's what the letter said.

Draco ignored Ron and looked at Harry, saying, "If I were you, I'd go check on that big oaf more often. You might only see him in Knockturn Alley from now on."

Harry replied without hesitation, "Hagrid won't be expelled."

"Just you wait, Potter." He chuckled coldly and said to Hermione, "You Muggle, you're all you've got. What else can you do besides memorize by rote?"

"I know a lot more, do you want to try?" Hermione uttered a strange syllable, and a faint halo appeared on her palm.

"She's still number one in all subjects on the second-year 'Answer Sheets' leaderboard, yeah, that's nothing to you... Oh, right, she might even be your examiner if you want to join the Spellbook Club," Ron mocked him.

Draco felt as if he'd swallowed a dead fly. He said slowly, "What a shame. It seems winning the Daily Prophet's grand prize has given you a significant boost in confidence..."

"Draco, ignore these lowlifes. My grandfather's servants are richer than his family. To be called a pureblood alongside them is the greatest humiliation I've ever suffered." Pansy Parkinson haughtily pulled him away.

Ron frowned, looking incredulous, and said, "Are they crazy? Why do they always cause trouble whenever they show up?"

Even after dinner and back in the common room, Ron was still brooding over it. "It ruined my whole day, Hermione. I'm serious, if you become one of the examiners... hey! Keep your cat away from me!"

Less than three feet away from him, a large cat with ginger-colored fur and a face that looked flattened was crouching down and staring intently at his pocket.

Hermione picked up her cat unhappily. "Crooked Hill, be good." She sat down on the other side of the small round table.

Harry looked down at a piece of parchment with various names on it, connected by lines.

Hermione glanced at the contents and said worriedly, "Harry, are you still worried about that escaped convict?"

"I just can't understand how my father could choose someone like that as his best man!" Harry slammed his fist on the table in anger, and even though almost a week had passed, he couldn't forget his rage at the time.

Hermione comforted him, saying, "Many people change, Harry."

Ron asked curiously, "I remember you said on Saturday that you were going to see Professor Lupin to get some information. How did it go?"

Harry said dejectedly, "I didn't see him. Professor Lupin was sick. I knocked on the door for ages before he finally answered me in a hoarse voice."

"But he didn't explicitly reject you, did he? Try again sometime, after class or next weekend," Ron suggested.

Harry nodded; he thought so too. There was supposed to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts class today, but Professor Lupin looked so haggard that he was afraid the professor might suddenly faint during the lesson, so he was too embarrassed to make a request.

(End of this chapter)