Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

"I have only two words for you."

When the sorting ceremony was over and Professor McGonagall finished reading the last name, Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, stood up.

He looked at all the students with a smile, opened his arms, and made a welcome gesture, and his deep voice echoed in the auditorium.

"Eat it!"

"Yes, yes!" Ron and Harry cheered loudly, holding their knives and forks, watching the empty plates suddenly and magically filled with food.

Nearly Headless Nick watched sadly as Ron and the others put the food on their plates. As a ghost, he couldn't taste the delicacies.

"Ah, it's much better now." Harry stuffed a mouthful of mashed potatoes and mumbled.

"Yes, yes!" Ron nodded yes.

"Lucky for you, you know, this evening's party almost fell through," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There was a mess in the kitchen earlier."

"Why? What's going on?" Neville asked with a huge piece of steak in his mouth.

"Naturally Peeves is making trouble."

Nick said, shaking his head, which made his head tremble dangerously—and he hastily pulled his ruff up a little over his neck.

"Again arguing about that, you know, he wants to go to the party... Well, it's impossible, you know how crazy he is, he's totally uneducated, he throws everything he eats around.

We held a council of ghosts, and the fat friar insisted on giving him the chance, but Bloody Baron was adamantly against it, and I thought he was very wise. "

The Bloody Barrow is the ghost of Slytherin House, a thin, taciturn ghost.

His body was covered with silver bloodstains, foreshadowing the horrible experience before his death.

Of all the ghosts at Hogwarts, only he can really control Peeves.

"No wonder, we thought Peeves was angry about something," said Ron curiously. "What was he doing in the kitchen?"

"Oh, it's the same old thing." Nick shrugged. Six gods have no master."

"There are house elves here too?" Hermione, who was drinking pumpkin juice, suddenly asked loudly, "At Hogwarts?"

"Needless to say," Nearly Headless Nick was a little surprised by her question, "isn't it obvious, I don't believe there are as many house-elves in any house in England as here, there are more than a hundred Woolen cloth."

"But I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Oh, they rarely leave the kitchen during the day, don't they?" Nick said.

"Usually come out at night to clean up... look after the stove or something... I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you?

The sign of a good house-elf is that you don't even know he exists, do you? "

Hermione's eyes widened as if it was something big.

"Then do they get paid?"

In desperation, she even knocked over the tall gold wine glass in her hand, and the pumpkin juice kept pouring on the tablecloth. It stained the white linen with an orange patch several feet long, but she ignored it.

She asked, "Do they get vacation time? Also, do they get sick days, stipends, everything?"

Nick was amused by her words, his ruff was on one side, and his head almost rolled off, hanging there danglingly with an inch or two of dead skin and muscle still attached.

"Sick leave and allowance?" He put his head back on his neck and secured it with a ruff. "House-elves don't need sick leave and allowance!"

Clark secretly thought that it was terrible. Ever since she saw Shining's tragic experience at the Quidditch World Cup last time, her compassionate girlish heart began to overflow, and she developed sympathy and pity for creatures like house elves.

For some time,

She asked Clark about things related to them every now and then.

Especially when Harry accidentally let her know that there were house-elves in the Clark family castle.

She tirelessly inquired about the treatment of the house elves of the Clark family, and learned about their living conditions in the magic world.

As a middle-class child who grew up in Western Muggle society and received equal education for everyone, Hermione certainly couldn't understand the backward slavery system in the wizarding world.

Yes, she thought wizards were enslaving house-elves, just as whites had enslaved blacks.

So kind-hearted, she thought it was necessary for her to do something for the house-elves.

Of course, in Clark's view, Hermione's thoughts cannot be said to be wrong, after all, this reflects her kind side, but her thinking is still too simple and one-sided.

Even though she has studied in the magic school of Hogwarts for three years, she still likes to look at the wizarding world with the thinking and eyes of a "normal person" like a Muggle.

Like this time, after hearing that Hogwarts also had house-elves and served them pro bono, Hermione looked down at the barely touched food on her plate, and put the knife and fork on the plate , pushed the plate away.

"Oh, please forgive me."

Ron said he accidentally sprayed Harry with crumbs of some Yorkshire pudding.

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing very heavily, "that's how the meal came about. Slave labor!"

She refused to take another bite.

Clark sighed helplessly, but this did not prevent him from putting a piece of beef into his mouth, "You will not get sick leave for them if you starve yourself to death!"

"But the blood and sweat of the house-elves dripped through every bite of our steak, every morsel we ate," argued Hermione exasperatedly.

"No! No! No! These are just the success of their labor, but not the blood and sweat of some house elves. The taste of wizards is not so strong."

Ron couldn't help but nod at Clark's words.

At this time, there was a burst of thunder outside the castle, rattling the glass windows, and a flash of lightning flashed across the gloomy ceiling, illuminating the golden plate in front of them.

The rest of the food on the plate disappeared, and the dessert was filled again in the blink of an eye.

"Hermione, look at this chocolate lava cake!" Ron said, deliberately sending the delicious pie to the two of them, "raisin pudding, apple pie, and..."

Hermione gave him a glare that reminded him of Professor McGonagall, and Ron stopped immediately.

"Hermione, as a mage, you use the thinking of 'normal people' to judge the thoughts of magical creatures. This is a taboo in the field of mysticism."

Clark said quietly.

"As for the matter of house-elves, in addition to "History of Magic" and "Protecting Fantastic Creatures" related to them, I suggest that you also read the folklore materials of the Muggle world.

Perhaps from there, you can learn to look at this matter from a more mature and "magical" perspective. "

His words silenced Hermione.

Rationally speaking, Hermione, who maintained absolute trust in Clark, felt that since he said so, it must be reasonable.

But from an emotional point of view, she really couldn't look at this issue calmly.

Fortunately, Ginny suddenly interrupted at this moment, diverting their attention.

"Why don't you see the new teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" Ginny asked while looking at the teacher's seat not far away.

None of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers stayed for more than two semesters. So far, among the teachers Clark has experienced, Professor Lupine is the best. Resigned.

Harry scanned the staff table back and forth, and there was no doubt that not a single face was new.

"Maybe they can't find anyone!" Ron joked as he ate his dessert.

Clark also looked up and glanced at the faculty desk:

Professor Flitwick, who taught them Charms, was the Head of Ravenclaw House. He was sitting on a pile of cushions at the moment, but his head just popped out of the table.

Next to him was Professor Sprout, the herbal medicine teacher. At this time, she had put down her spoon and was talking to Professor Sinista of the Astronomy Department.

On the other side of Professor Sinistra, sat the Potions teacher with a sallow face, hooked nose, and greasy hair - Snape, who was the Head of Slytherin House.

However, apart from the students of Slytherin, the students of the other three colleges did not have a good image of him.

On the other side of Snape was Clark, the dean of Gryffindor College, Professor McGonagall.

In the next seat, in the middle of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His flowing silver-white hair and beard glistened in the candlelight, and his rich dark green robe was embroidered with stars and moons.

Professor Dumbledore's slender fingers touched together, and his chin rested on the fingertips.

At this moment, he didn't pay attention to the favorite sweets in front of him, but looked at the ceiling above through the half-moon-shaped lenses, as if lost in thought.

Clark also cast his eyes on the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it so stormy.

Black and purple clouds billowed above, and a forked bolt of lightning streaked across the ceiling as another thunderclap sounded outside.

With such bad weather on the first day of school, I don't know if this is a harbinger of something to come.

However, no matter how bad the weather was, it seemed that it couldn't stop Harry's determination to become a cook.

Soon, all the desserts in front of them were swept away, and the last remaining crumbs on the plate disappeared.

The plate was magically clean and shiny again, when Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet again.

The humming of voices in the hall stopped suddenly, only the beating of strong wind and heavy rain could be heard.

"Okay!" Dumbledore said, looking at everyone with a smile, "Now that we have eaten and drank enough, I must ask everyone's attention again, and I have a few announcements to make."

He began to report the prohibition of dangerous substances every year at the beginning of school. The only difference is that many of the dangerous substances banned this year are the prank products of George and Fred.

However, because the business has just started, the two of them are only in small-scale test sales and have not yet mass-produced.

Because of this, most of their new products have not been included in that banned list.

"As before, I want to remind everyone that students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest on the other side of the venue, and students under the third grade are not allowed to visit Hogsmeade Village."

"As for the Dragon Farm Park..." Dumbledore paused, "The park is still under renovation..."

The students below let out howls, and the previous news that students under the third grade could not visit Hogsmeade village did not cause such a big reaction.

"It is with great regret that I also inform you that there will be no House Cup Quidditch this year," he continued.

"What?" Harry gasped in surprise.

He turned to look at his Quidditch teammates Fred and George, who were staring silently at Dumbledore with their mouths open, as if too surprised to speak.

Dumbledore continued: "This is because a large event will start in October and continue throughout the school year, taking up a lot of the teachers' time and energy."

Harry and the others suddenly realized that the school did not hold the College Cup Quidditch match because of what Clark said.

"—but I'm sure you'll all have a lot of fun. I'm very happy to announce that this year at Hogwarts—"

Just then, amidst a deafening thunderclap, the door of the auditorium was slammed open from the outside by a force of violence.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long cane and wrapped in a black traveling cloak.

It's obviously just a violent intruder, but there is a domineering temperament that I should stand here in the first place.

Everyone in the auditorium turned their heads to look at him suspiciously. Suddenly, a forked lightning flashed across the ceiling, and some timid girls gasped.

The incandescent lightning illuminated the man's face extremely vividly. No wonder the little girls were scared. Even in Clark's eyes, this face could be regarded as terrifying.

It seemed to have been carved out of a piece of rotten wood, and the carver had only a vague idea of ​​what a human face should look like, and was not very good with a carving knife.

Every inch of the skin on that face seemed to be scarred, the mouth was like a big crooked opening, and the place where the nose should be protruding was missing.

And the most terrifying thing about this man is his eyes.

One of his eyes was small, black, and shiny; the other was large, round as a coin, and of a vivid bright blue.

Not only that, but the blue eye kept moving without blinking, turning up and down, side to side, completely unrelated to the normal eye.

Later, when the blue eyeball rolled over, it actually got into the man's head, so that everyone could only see a big white eyeball.

"Ah!" Some little girls screamed in fright.

Hermione also frowned, turned sideways and asked in a low voice, "Who is he?"

"Mad-Eye Moody!" Clark replied. "Alastor Moody, the best Auror Britain has ever had."