Harry Potter: A Certain Ancient Rune Professor of Hogwarts (TL)

September 1.

Felix woke up early and made his way back to London via Diagon Alley transit.

He wanted to do some shopping for the new school year.

In addition to updating his film archive, he bought the latest books in bulk, as well as clothes, but most importantly, he made his way to a map store.

It is a small, very old-fashioned store, with antique-looking brown shelves with a wide variety and assortment of maps.

Both local London maps and maps of the British Isles, with variations – aerial views, tourist maps, road maps …

As Felix prepared to buy a thick atlas, he asked the clerk incidentally, “Have you ever heard of Grimmauld Place?”

The clerk pushed up his specs up and looked up over a colourful atlas in front of him …

So thirty minutes later, he is standing in a run-down neighbourhood in old London.

The houses here were all quite old, with peeling wall skins revealing large areas of unsightly grey, and frankly, the old Black family home hidden here is something he would have never thought of.

He wandered around the perimeter, some houses were still occupied, but some were visibly abandoned – tons of rubbish was piled up in front of the door, and windows were smashed.

On one of the more deserted lawns, his eyes fell on a house that bore the house number, 11 Grimmauld Place.

He looked at both sides, number 10 on the left and number 13 on the right.

“Interesting, even the wizard’s vision is being isolated?”

Felix stood still and kept examining everything.

An old woman walked slowly over carrying a cloth bag, “Young man, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting a pen pal, ma’am. The address given is not quite clear, I’m trying to identify it.” Felix excused himself.

“I’ve lived here for over fifty years since birth … maybe I can help you, so tell me about it.”

“Uh, Grimmauld Place in old west London, the door number is blurry at the back, I’m guessing it’s number 12.” Felix looked somewhat helplessly at the enthusiastic old woman.

“Number 12? That’s not possible, young man, there is no such a house.” The old woman raised her voice, “You must have wrongly remembered … either that or your friend played a bad joke on you.”

“I find it strange too,” Felix pointed to the house in front of him, “Here is number 11, over there is number 13, that said, there is no number 12 … by chance”

The old woman let out a hearty laugh: “… You’re not the only one who has this suspicion.” She winked, lowered her voice, and said, “It was a mistake. I overheard my grandmother, oh, she heard it from someone else too, that the people who built the house back then were a bunch of confused people, and the workers finished their job, which, in present-day terms, just wasn’t too bad. But they put up the wrong door number, and when the city hall inspected it, they didn’t find anything strange, and the mistake was just left intact.”

“I have the impression that there have been several instances of people complaining back over the years, but nothing has changed. As you know, this place is not valued at all, maybe in another decade or so, it will be demolished in the name of being an eyesore … Anyway, I will not give my consent to it, nor will my grandson – he is only two years old, but there is a saying about how? Education has to be done before it’s too late, there are always traditions to keep alive.” She tilted her head and said wryly.

The old woman is rather talkative, and from her, Felix also knows some not-so-substantial legends.

For example, “12 Grimmauld Place is real, it’s a haunted house.” Or, “The workers back then did not put up the wrong door sign, a nobleman bought the place, but then the house disappeared …”

Felix is very interested in these legends, from time to time a few sighs of admiration, so that the old woman look at him with more satisfaction, ” the young people like you who know how to respect the elderly are not seen much, like that house next to me, in the middle of the night still playing the music, noisy people do not rest, I knocked on the door several times to no avail.”

Felix handed her a small card, and for a moment, the old woman seemed to see a golden light flashing across the surface of the card, though it could have been the sunlight being reflected.

“Ma’am, you can write a sticky note on it and slip it along the door to the family, warning them to be aware of the feelings of the others. Well, better still, include a police number.”

“Will it work?” The old woman took the card with scepticism, ” People on our side are not very well-mannered.”

“Try it, it can’t get any worse.”

After declining her invitation, Felix cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and stood quietly in place.

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

Near noon, he pulled out his wand and swiped it over, pushing away layers of mist, and his body seemed to be squeezed into the air.

His figure disappeared.

In a gap, Felix moved forward with some effort, but immediately he got blocked by a wall of air, a very sophisticated magic barrier.

Then he heard an ear-piercing shriek, which sounded so harsh that Felix couldn’t help but wince, and after a few seconds he got repelled by a great force and stood again on the lawn of Grimmauld Square.

“There’s someone in there?”

Felix wondered, ‘Headmaster Black didn’t mention this …’ but on second thought, he thought it could be a house elf.

After a moment of hesitation, Felix chose to leave. He could indeed force his way in again and break the barrier with his superior attainment in magic, but this could last for an hour or two, or even a day.

If there is someone inside, whether it is a wizard or a house-elf, they will not remain motionless in the face of his attack.

”At least I know about this place.”

Felix took a deep look and his figure disappeared.

…

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts Express.

“Did you see that, Harry? Malfoy is a wimp, he slipped away when he saw a professor around, so in line with their family tradition!” Ron said slightly meanly, but he couldn’t be blamed for that, since Malfoy only just mocked his family.

“Ron,” Hermione said pointedly, pointing to the professor, who slumped over the small table on one side. “Watch out ….”

The trio glanced over at the wayward professor, who seemed asleep. They continued to talk but lowered their voices considerably.

“I’m serious. If he ever taunts and makes fun of my family again, I’m going to grab his head – Harry, what’s wrong with you?” Ron asked, looking at Harry.

“What?”

“You’re so calm, even when Malfoy is around. You just draw your wand so naturally and look at Malfoy like he’s a caterpillar or something.”

“I feel that way too, Harry,” Hermione said seriously.

Harry scratched his head: “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’ve got stronger? When Malfoy provoked us at the time, I surprisingly did not feel too angry, like watching a show. It’s strange …”

He looked at Ron and Hermione, said in an uncertain tone: “I think it may be because even if they really fight, I can easily win. I predicted that outcome in advance.”

Ron let out an odd yelp, “That’s so cool, man!”

“Keep your voice down, Ron -” Hermione reminded him.

But he didn’t even notice and said excitedly, “Tell us more about the details of Professor Hap’s special training session, Harry! I’m so jealous!”

Harry repeated helplessly, “Honestly, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, I don’t even know how I lasted, but Professor Hap said that opportunity is hard to come by …”

He began to talk, Ron and Hermione stared at him with rapt attention.

No one noticed that the professor, who is quietly asleep on the side, twitched slightly.