A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Harry finally experienced the sensation Ron described as "being squeezed out of a rubber tube." He felt that description was an understatement; pressure surged from all sides, his eardrums gave a sharp warning, and his chest felt as if it were encased in layers of iron bands, making it hard to breathe.

If this were happening in the real world, his clothes would be drenched in sweat.

Not only Harry, but Ron and Hermione also struggled. After enduring two more attempts, they decided to call it quits. Harry inquired, "If we can't adapt, are we going to be stuck at this stage?"

"Even if you can't adapt to becoming visible, let alone maintaining focus and manipulating magic," Professor Harp reassured, "you're young, there's no need to rush."

In the common rest area,

The three simultaneously opened their eyes. "Pretty cool, isn't it?" Harry said.

Ron grinned. "More than just cool, it's downright awesome!" He placed a hand on his forehead, striking a peculiar pose. "I'm the silly country boy."

Harry burst into laughter, leaving Hermione utterly baffled.

"Gentlemen, is this the latest popular joke?"

"Oh, Hermione, this is a line from 'The Little Wizard Mick's Adventures.' Whenever Mick encounters something unfamiliar, he says it like this..."

Hermione shrugged and dryly remarked, "Quite amusing."

Subsequently, days turned into weeks. Felix successfully integrated the Alert Charm into the Marauder's Map. The rest was left to time, to let everything simmer.

When Harry handed him the paper on Transfiguring Illusions and the unnamed book, he was surprised to realize that a month had already passed.

Entering March, the weather grew clearer. Looking towards the Forbidden Forest from the castle, distinct greenery could be seen. However, the wind had picked up, a biting breeze that stung the face. Every time an owl appeared in the Great Hall, its feathers were ruffled. This irked these responsible creatures, making them testy. If you didn't promptly unwrap the letters and provide a few owl treats, they'd angrily peck at your hand.

Felix completed his own portrait and sent it to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. For him, the most time-consuming part wasn't infusing memories but applying layers of protective spells.

If anyone dared to use a Stunning Spell on his portrait, that person would surely be in for a massive 'surprise' – originally, Felix hadn't thought that far, but after numerous visits to the Black residence to read, this concern naturally arose.

It was his first time delving so deeply into the history of a pure-blood family. Almost every couple of steps, he could spot traces of magic. He treated this place like buried and rediscovered relics, complemented by the half-truths and tall tales he'd heard from Mundungus. It was indeed quite fascinating.

Felix also incidentally clarified one matter: Kreacher had known him all along. The unpleasant, shrill scream he heard during his first attempt to force his way into the Black residence belonged to this elderly house-elf.

"What could Kreacher do? When he discovered someone attempting to break in, his only recourse was to trigger the defensive enchantments within the house."

...

Grimmauld Place, Number Twelve.

"So, you've known about this place for a while!" Sirius exclaimed in astonishment.

"As I mentioned, I received a bit of assistance from the Black family," Felix replied, a faint smile forming on his lips.

"Who told you?" Sirius inquired, then realization struck him. "Wait—Phineas Nigellus Black, my great-great-grandfather! You asked me where his portrait was!"

He sarcastically continued, "His portrait seems to possess more reason than he did when he was alive. Was there an error during the memory infusion?"

Felix spoke softly, "He hoped I would spare you, spare the last descendant of the Black family—under Dumbledore's watchful eye, despite the fact that you were once Azkaban's most infamous escapee."

"..."

"Though you still are," Felix added.

Sirius looked at him wordlessly and grumbled, "Thanks for the reminder. You make me feel like an ungrateful jerk, but if you knew what my childhood was like... Anyway, nothing's up; I'll keep an eye on the Marauder's Map."

"The Map has the Alarm Charm on it, no need for someone to watch."

"In that case, I'll tidy up my room!" Sirius snapped.

Felix stopped teasing him and turned serious, "Speaking of important matters, I wanted to tell you not to come to my office recently, and I won't be coming either. Officials from the Ministry of Magic are here."

Sirius paused, puzzled, "The Ministry? At Hogwarts? Why?"

"Because of you," Felix said, "There's no bolder fugitive than you. The Ministry cast a wide net, and yet you still appear at Hogwarts, less than three hundred steps away from the castle gates."

"Dumbledore's earlier reasons have been overturned like this. The school is no longer safe. Parents have been writing to him one after another, and he had to compromise... Now, the abandoned classroom next to Flich's office has become the temporary Ministry outpost."

Sirius awkwardly admitted, "I didn't think that far. I stumbled upon two wands from the knocked-out wizard in Knockturn Alley, along with some contraband potions. The plan naturally took shape."

Felix shook his head and extended his arm. "Maruader's Map, come forth!" A roll of parchment flew in with a swish. He turned and walked into the fireplace. "I'm taking the map. Also, I'm not sure if I have the authority to advise you, but life is like a game of chess. When you make a move, you must always allow for counterplay."

His figure vanished into emerald flames.contemporary romance

Sirius stared at the fireplace, dumbfounded, muttering, "Chess? Does he think I can't play?"

"Kreacher!" he shouted.

"Bang!"

A decrepit, ugly house-elf appeared. Kreacher hunched over and bowed deeply, his nose touching the ground. "Respected wastrel young master, what orders have you?"

Sirius' eyelid twitched as he suppressed his anger. "I'm going out for a bit. You keep tidying up the house. I don't care where you put those worthless things, just make sure I don't see them, or I'll throw them all out."

"Mr. Harp strongly advises against you going out. If he finds out..."

"Kreacher! Who is your master, after all?" Sirius snapped irritably. "Maybe I should send you to him!"

Kreacher muttered under his breath, but his voice was just loud enough for the other to hear, "Old Kreacher has served the noble House of Black for generations. If you insist, I might even prefer Miss Narcissa."

Sirius was so infuriated his nose nearly skewed. He left in big strides.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Muggle neighborhood! To learn how to play chess! You can go tattle!"

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