A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 410: Gathering of Spirits

As they parted ways, Felix presented a small gift.

"What's this?"

"A reclining chair with some fascinating magic attached. It's incredibly comfortable," Felix explained. "It's one of the new products from 'Future World.' Lemus, the gentleman managing the company, mentioned you inquiring about its size and customization options in a letter… I thought I'd bring it along."

After he left, Madam Maxime and Fleur stared at a metal box that had been opened, revealing a capsule-like gadget on a crimson velvet inside.

"I should have asked..." muttered Madam Maxime.

"You wrote to 'Future World' too?" Fleur asked, a curious glint in her eye.

"Why not?" Madam Maxime huffed. "Didn't you collect those two small magic lamps at the exhibition?"

Fleur stuck out her tongue, picked up the capsule, but couldn't decipher its purpose. She handed it to Madam Maxime, who inspected its surface. "Huh? This magic seems unstable, almost disposable."

She tapped it lightly with her wand, causing the capsule to crack from the center. Madam Maxime tossed it aside.

A mix of blue and bronze reclining chair materialized abruptly in the dining hall, looking at least three sizes larger than a standard one, resembling a bed with armrests—at least from Fleur's perspective.

But she dared not say that, instead coaxing Madam Maxime to try it out.

As the towering woman settled into the chair, an invisible cushion materialized on its surface. "Oh? So comfy, like sitting on clouds. 'Cloud Chair' is indeed a fitting name..."

Madam Maxime wore an expression of bliss, making Fleur itch to try it herself.

After a good while, she reluctantly rose from the chair, saying, "There seem to be several beneficial spells infused inside. Not individually potent, but together, they relax the person lying on it, making all worries vanish. A fantastic creation."

Fleur's eyes sparkled. "Can I buy one? With this little thing," she gestured to the palm-sized box on the table, "I only need an owl to have it delivered, right?"

"You heard it too. The product hasn't hit the market yet; there might be flaws. I'm just testing it out; I'll need to provide feedback later," Madam Maxime said, "Place it in my private bathroom."

"Yes, Madam Maxime," Fleur replied, using her wand to guide the floating chair ahead, eyes gleaming with eagerness.

...

"You tampered with Ollim's gift?" Hagrid's eyes widened.

"Don't say it like that, it'll hurt my feelings." Felix lounged on Hagrid's sofa, scratching his chin absentmindedly, clearly enjoying it, drooling a bit.

"I didn't tamper with anything. On the contrary, we did our best. The issue is with the test version; it doesn't always perform as expected, especially with this lady's unusual size. The selected testers have a manual with simple repair methods. I just happened to… forget to leave one for Madam Maxime."

Hagrid blinked, then delved into the product manual Felix had given him, murmuring rapidly, "Softening Charm, Cloud Charm, Calming Charm, Stabilizing Charm... Maintenance manual... FAQ..."

His eyes gradually lit up.

Felix picked up Aragog's cage, bringing it close to his face. The giant spider's nose twitched, sniffing at the cage aggressively, threateningly waving its large pincers.

"Back off, you dumb dog. Don't think I'm short on venom..." the old eight-eyed spider king grumbled.

"You seem quite spirited," Felix smiled.

"I've grown accustomed," Aragog said. Its once black hard hairs had turned grayish-white, and its pincers drooped lifelessly under the cage. "Hagrid took me to the spider's den once; there's no place for me there anymore. We were driven out... I foresaw this day. The instincts of an eight-eyed spider involve bloodlust. If I died naturally, they'd surely devour me."

These Forbidden Acromantulas regarded Aragog as their king. Raised by Hagrid, they were relatively gentle compared to their wild counterparts, somewhat like thestrals, almost tamed creatures. But eight-eyed spiders, created for guarding wizards' treasures and chambers, had never aligned with the term 'tame.' They were meant to become increasingly ferocious, and when that day arrived, it would be the end of these eight-eyed spiders. However, that would be a long time from now.

Contemplating, Felix looked up to find Hagrid staring at him, teary-eyed and smiling.

"I understand what you mean, Felix. You're too considerate..." Hagrid choked up, "Not many people have been this good to me, considering me, even my dad..." He sniffed loudly, then let out a hearty burp.

Then he busied himself, rummaging through various corners of the house, collecting dusty magical creature materials—complete tusks of a Nogtail with fangs, unicorn hair, a tail-hook from a Sphinx, fairy wings...

"I remember you needing this, all from the stock over the years, things I've found during my rounds in the forest. That Nogtail fell into a trap, a bit out of the way, starved to death by the time I found it... I even found the club the giant used to smash things, reeks terribly, but quite handy... I've washed it plenty, specifically using it to bash pumpkins, if you need it, it's behind the door."

"Oh, Hagrid, I don't need... alright, just a bit, the Nogtail's hide will do. I can mix it with Demiguise hair for a protective jacket. Of course, I won't refuse the tail-hook from the Sphinx either."

Elsewhere, Harry sat drowsily in the History of Magic class, much like the other young wizards, perplexed and a bit sleepy, showing signs of not having fully woken up.

Only a few, like Hermione, persisted in taking notes, attempting to glean details not covered in the textbook from Professor Binns' droning, drawn-out voice. Harry wiped the corner of his itching mouth, removing saliva, surveying the room. Seamus was lightly snoring, and Neville's head bobbed continuously, jerking up whenever he dozed off, his quill persistently jotting down whatever he heard, then, within seconds, his gaze went vacant, eyelids drooping again.

Harry sneakily glanced at Neville's History of Magic book, the latest entry reading, "The food in Room Seven is delicious." He covered his mouth to suppress a laugh, wondering if Neville had mixed up his notes. He only learned the truth from Hermione at the end of the class.

"Room Seven has become a gathering place for ghosts?"

"Didn't you notice? Professor Binns was unusually excited today," Hermione earnestly said. "He mentioned Room Seven three times in class..."

"Only you caught it," Ron commented.

"So are we heading to the library today? I think the common room is better; I don't want to see Professor Sinistra again. Have you noticed, she looks a bit like Filch? I mean the sunken cheeks, parchment-like skin, and that

long hawkish nose... hmm, why does that sound a bit like Snape?"

Harry and Hermione burst into laughter. After laughing, Hermione scolded him sternly, "You're not allowed to say that about her. Professor Sinistra takes her work very seriously."

"Yeah," Ron grumbled, "She breathes down my neck while I'm picking books, shoos us out with a flying feather duster if we speak too loudly..."

"Speaking of which, Harry!" Ron's eyes brightened. "I heard Ginny won a model of the Goblet of Fire from Professor Hooch. A model with real flames! I tried to borrow it from her, but she won't agree. I guess she intends to give it to you as a Christmas present, how biased..."

Harry didn't speak, but Hermione did, "Impossible! She won't give it away. I heard her say she'd treasure it for life."

>

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