A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Felix Harp subtly caught Hermione's gaze.

"Well, those indeed are dark magic books, but there's a saying, isn't there? If you wish to defend against dark magic, you must have a certain understanding of it. As far as I know, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement even teaches some dark magic."

"But I rarely see..."

"Some wizards don't use dark magic, but that doesn't mean they're unfamiliar with it."

Felix smiled gently at her, "I've traveled the world for a year, and I must say, when dealing with certain specific troubles, dark magic can indeed be more effective."

Upon hearing Professor Harp's explanation, she quickly pondered and found the reason somewhat acceptable, but still maintained a stern face, "Professor, I still advise you to avoid using dark magic. I read in a book: Dark magic always quietly infiltrates your heart, corroding you unknowingly—"

"—Many young wizards have gone astray due to this, especially for underage wizards. Dark magic is like an irreversible poison of the soul," Felix continued along Hermione's line of thought.

Seeing the young witch somewhat surprised, he blinked, "I've read that book too."

"Nevertheless, I thank you for your advice."

Hermione pursed her lips, her demeanor reminiscent of Professor McGonagall.

Noticing his assistant's slight disgruntlement, Felix deftly changed the subject, praising, "I never expected you to have read so many books. For your age, it's quite an impressive achievement."

Following the professor's gaze, Hermione then realized that the other half of the room—separated by a low table, closer to her—was decorated entirely differently.

Warm sunlight bathed the area, casting a gentle glow. The light brown carpet and pale yellow curtains created an extremely comfortable ambiance. In the center stood a small round table adorned with two potted plants.

Directly across the room, there stood a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. It held neatly arranged rows of books, and on the second shelf from the top, there were seven or eight photo frames displaying family portraits and Hermione's photos from childhood.

Adjacent to the bookshelf was an ivory-colored door.

Hermione gasped in astonishment, as she realized that this half of the space was uncannily similar to her own room back home, about seventy to eighty percent.

She turned to Professor Harp, her mind full of questions, realizing that only he could provide the answers she sought.

And indeed, Professor Harp supplied the explanation, "This is the world of thought, a dwelling of imagination—you can call it whatever you like. Of course, none of this is real; our consciousness merely exists here."

Hermione marveled at the explanation, standing at the junction of the two spaces. With wide eyes, she took in her surroundings, then hesitantly waved her hand, "So, this place is a joint creation of ours? One half represents your inner world, and the other half represents mine..."

Felix gestured to his own head, "Just the external mapping and projection of portions of our inner worlds."

"And all our deepest secrets lie behind that door," he added, nodding toward the ivory door. Then, with a flick of his wand, the deep green curtain behind him rolled up, revealing a large door.

Hermione visibly relaxed; after all, she held quite a few secrets she was not willing to reveal easily.

Such as Harry's Parseltongue impersonation.

"Professor, why have we come to this... world of thought?" she inquired.

Instead of answering directly, Felix shared a part of his own experiences, "After graduating, I spent a year traveling the world, and then settled in London, specializing in Muggle studies."

"Muggles' wisdom is no less than wizards', and in many aspects such as logic, reasoning, and problem-solving methodologies, they excel even further. And a crucial point is the legacy."

"They pass down their knowledge, accumulating it across generations, leading to a qualitative transformation through quantitative accumulation."

"Wizards have their own forms of legacy, like Hogwarts, but in terms of inheritance and development, we fall far behind."

"It was recognizing this that led me to read Muggle books. Honestly, after being accustomed to moving pictures, reading Muggle books felt a bit strange."

"Their studies about thought and the brain caught my attention. I realized they have surpassed us in this aspect, even though it should have been a field where wizards excel. After all, we possess a range of memory magic, like Obliviate, Legilimency, and Occlumency."

"But regrettably, we've inherited only spells, not concepts."

"So, combining Muggle knowledge with magic, I developed a spell. Though it's still quite a way off from my envisioned outcome, for our current teaching purposes, it's quite fitting."

"What's the purpose of this spell?" Hermione curiously inquired.

"Thought acceleration," Felix Harp explained, "Here—in what I call the Chamber of Thought—your thought process speeds up, and with this place, we get the illusion of extended time. I can currently achieve about a three- to fourfold increase, any higher becomes dangerous."

"Similar to this spell is the Babbling Beverage, but their effects are not entirely the same. The latter enhances the drinker's mental capacity."

Hermione widened her eyes, "Professor, this spell is truly astonishing."

Felix shook his head, "It's not perfect yet."

Seeing the professor's reluctance to say more, Hermione began practicing engraving ancient runes. She used a piece of chestnut wood provided by Felix—it was one of the limitations of this spell; if you can't comprehend it, it won't appear here.

For most of the remaining time, Hermione practiced on her own, with Felix occasionally offering guidance.

Seven thought hours later.

Felix noticed sweat on Hermione's face, her figure growing fainter, almost like a transparent ghost.

"Professor, I can't concentrate, I can't... maintain focus."contemporary romance

"Hmm, it's about time. Let's conclude for today." Felix snapped his fingers, and in the next instant, the world spun, and the two of them returned to the sitting room.

Felix's wand still rested on Hermione's head, and the previously still professor suddenly stumbled, almost falling to the ground.

He pressed his hand to his forehead while waving his wand, summoning a potion from his bag.

Guided by the wand, the potion bottle acted quite independently—it opened its own lid, fetched two cups, and poured out a portion of the potion.

Meanwhile, Hermione was in a less fortunate state. She collapsed onto the couch, her face contorted in pain, as if she was on the verge of passing out any moment.

"Drink it, it will alleviate your symptoms."

Hermione reluctantly drank the potion.

"Have a piece of chocolate." Felix handed her a piece of chocolate.

After seven or eight minutes, Hermione finally regained her senses. She kept murmuring softly, "It was so terrifying, so terrifying."

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